Best in the Business
by ThisBabeNamedReba
Summary: Reba McEntire seems on top of the world. But when the lights go down and she's left with her thoughts, it's a whole different story. Every since her divorce, she has silently been losing herself. Now she knows she's about to break. Can she maintain her perfect reputation? Or end up like most celebrities-Strangled by scandal and driven into a life of drugs, lust, and tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

IM SORRY I KEEP CHANGING IT. Yes, this story is about Reba McEntire, basically.

Before hand, just know this. I have an unbelievable amount of respect for . I think she is the strongest, most beautiful woman evveerr. And I know in real life, she probably wouldn't do some of the things written about in this book. I just find it fun to spice things up a bit. Please don't take offense to the way I portray her in parts of this book. I'm not going to lie, it gets kind of erotic.

The Reba in this book is hard to explain. She is a mixture of Reba Hart and McEntire, if that makes since. It has the same family characters as the Reba show, except it is her in real life-fame and all. I have read her book and seen just about every interview she has ever done. I'm kind of obsessed. So yes, I know the story you're about to read about how she got famous is extremely far from the truth, but I don't want it exactly like her life. This is more imagination than documentary.

All of the characters are the same as the Reba show (plus celebrity friends). Brock was very protective of her, and still cares a lot about her. Their story is a little different. He is like a mixture of Narvel and Brock, plus a little extra. There is still Barbra Jean, his new wife, and their children (Cheyenne, Kyra, Jake), their son-in-law (Van), and granddaughter (Elisabeth). Two other changes is that Barbara Jean had a miscarriage and never had Henry, and Reba is 46, not 57. When the divorce happened she was 40. So, yeah. I just gave a lot away. And I know you think I'm crazy because I changed so much. IM , leave me comments & feed back. Enjoy! :)

**Best in the Business A story of sex, lies, betrayal, & love. **

*****Chapter One*****

There's something about a screaming crowd that awakens a part within me that I never knew existed. To look out at all of the faces, staring at me with such admiration, and to allow their applause to completely wash over me is one of the most amazing feelings ever. I love that moment when I look on the front row, and see the familiar face of a fan I had met before. To see that sparkle in their eyes as they look at me, and to feel as if we have some secret connection that no one in the world could understand. To say the least, I love what I do. I love fame. Don't get the wrong idea of me, though. I don't love the money and the 'high-life' part of fame. I love the ability to meet new people, and to change them with my music. I love to have someone come up to me and say, "You have changed my life.". If only one person were to do that throughout my whole career, I'd be satisfied.

I have been a singer-songwriter for 30 years now. In these parts of Nashville, I'm kind of a big deal. I'm proud of it, too. I realized I wanted this future at a very young age. When I hit 18, I left my home in a small Texas town and headed straight for Tennessee. I expected to arrive in the town of dreams and become an overnight sensation. I didn't know, however, that that is not how it works. I lived in a run down apartment, living off paychecks from the best job I could get.. A job I'm not very proud of. Those first few years on my own, I did a lot of things that I look back and cringe about; things that usually haunt me, and I try to forget about.

Anyways, life goes on, right? I'm here now, and I wouldn't change any part of my past. Sometimes when I'm performing, though, I will be reminded of what it took to get here. Not in a bad way; not in a way that makes me full of regret, but in a way that makes me thankful that I survived. At some points, I honestly didn't think I would. I was reminded of this tonight at my show in Knoxville. The show was over, I had done my encore, and the fans were going crazy. I was filled with that amazing feeling again, and a large rush of memories flooded over me as I remembered what it took to get here. I looked at the sea of fans, blew one last kiss, and walked off stage.

My tour bus is just about the messiest place in the world. Oh sure, it's classy and elegant, but when I travel with a full-sized band (mostly men), who can't clean up after themselves, it tends to get a little messy. I pushed my way past the clutter, and back into my room. Considering the band usually doesn't go in there, my room is fairly clean. I layed down on my bed, kicked off my boots, and propped my arms behind my head. I closed my eyes, and enjoyed the moment. You see, this is my favorite part of a performance. After it's over, I love to lay in my bus and think. The adrenaline of the crowd hasn't quite worn off yet, so I lay down and peacefully drag it out as long as possible. This is my confident moment.. The moment when I feel on top of the world. The moment when I embrace who I am. The only moment. I know moments like these don't last long, so I cling on to them.

As I was laying there, my accomplishments skimming through my head, I heard a faint thud on the side of my bus. I blew it off, assuming it was just the wind. A second later, I heard it again, only a little louder and followed by, "Do you think she's in there?". My eyes slowly opened and a smile came to my face. This was my second favorite part of a performance.

I peeked out the window, and saw a teenage girl boy about seven feet from the bus, and just blankly staring at it. I've seen that look before, and I knew exactly what they were thinking. I poured myself some tea, and casually walked out of my bus. As soon as they heard the door, they jumped in unison with terrified looks on their faces. When they realized it was me, however, the girl screeched and came bolting towards me. The boy stood in place with a blank, starstruck face. I giggled as the girl practically jumped into my arms. I had to hold my tea up high to keep it from spilling.

"Oh my gosh, it's really you! It's really you!" She exclaimed. "You have no idea what you mean to me, !" Her face was enlightening. I couldn't help but giggle some more.

"Oh please, call me Reba." I said out of habit. I expected her to respond, but she just stayed in my arms. I could tell she was crying by the way her body was shaking. Also, I could feel her tears on my shirt. I looked towards the boy, who had backed up a few feet, and still had that same white-faced expression. I knew I should give him time to come around; I didn't want to make him uncomfortable. So, I just smiled at him, and then turned to pull the girl off of me, but still held on to her by her arms. I wiped her tears, and she looked straight into my eyes for the first time. "What's your name?" I asked.

"L..Lydia." She stuttered, still shaking.

"I think I saw you tonight, Lydia. Were you on the 3rd row?" She nodded. "Oh yes, I definitely saw you. You were the girl doing the air guitar, right?" She looked to the ground and giggled. "Who is your friend?" I asked softly. She looked at me confused, and then turned around to find the boy she had apparently forgotten about.

"Oh yeah!" She pulled away from me and began to walk to him. She grabbed onto his hand, and led the way as he stumbled towards me. She wiped another tear, composing herself. "This is Thomas, my boyfriend. We've been saving up our money, and payed for tickets to your show all on our own!" She had pulled her self together, and was ecstatic now, talking quickly. "I've loved you all of my life! Thomas usually listens to rap music, but he knows who you are. I told him I was going to take him to your concert to show him what real music was. I also told him we'd meet you, but he didn't believe me. See, I told you!" She said playfully hitting him in the arm. He was still frozen. I couldn't help but laugh at these kids. So cute, so innocent. They seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties."This is my 9th concert of yours that I've been to!" Yes, I thought I had recognized her. "I can't believe I'm actually standing in front of you! You're music is so inspiring to me, !"

"If you insist on calling me that, that's okay with me." I chuckled. "And thank you so much! I'm so glad to hear that. My music isn't very popular with kids your age. I'm glad some of y'all know who I am!" I looked over to Thomas. "You're not a talkative thing, are you?" I asked. Lydia laughed out loud, and he looked down to the ground. I walked over and gave him a friendly, somewhat motherly hug. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Thomas." I smiled, and he smiled back, finally showing some expression.

"Nice to meet you too, . My girlfriend really loves you." He quietly said. Lydia smiled big.

"Well, I love her too!" I laughed. Soon after, a bolt of lightening lit up the sky, followed by a large clap of thunder. It was so unexpected-the weather had seemed fine earlier. I tried to blow it off the best I could, and continued talking to the couple. I think they noticed my reaction a few seconds later, however, when another shot of thunder pierced the soothing nightime sound. I felt my smile drop, and my chest tighten. I saw lightening, and my palms started sweating. My legs were going weak, and I quickly scanned the night sky.

" , are you okay?" Lydia asked, her face filled with concern.

"Um yes, I'm fine. Y'all should be getting home, though. You arn't driving, are you?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am, we are driving back to our hotel. It's about 30 minutes away." Thomas responded. That was the most he had said all night.

"Well, I hate to say goodbye. But you guys need to hit the road before the strom hits. It was a pleasure meeting you!" I quickly said. The look on Lydia's face made me regret it. I wished I could stay and talk to them forever. I knew it was for the best, though.

"Okay, you're probably right." She responded gloomily, but then her face brightened. "Can I get a picture with you first? None of my friends are going to believe this!" Dispite my angst, I smiled and agreed. We posed as Thomas pulled out a camera.

"Ready you guys?" He asked. "One..Two..Three.." The flash went off, making me think it was lightening, and a pain struck through my heart. My fist clenched, and I tried with every part of myself to hide what I was feeling. These kids didn't need to see this. Thankfully neither one noticed. Lydia went and looked at the picture and smiled, showing her approval.

"Again, thank you so much." She said as she hugged me one last time. She held on for a long time, because both of us knew this moment would probably never happen again. When she pulled off, I could see tear trails down her cheek. Thomas came and hugged me, and then they both walked off. A part of me wanted to invite them to come with me, and stay just until the storm comes and passes. Anything to keep them off of the road; but I knew it wasn't a good idea.

"Y'all be safe!" I desperately called out.

Lydia turned around. "We will. You too, Ms. McEntire." She grabbed onto Thomas' hand, and they walked off into the darkness together.

Another clap of thunder came, and the same responce shook my body. I hurried inside of my bus, locking the door behind me. The band was probably hitting up the bars, like they usually do after shows. So, at least for a few hours, I knew I was stuck alone. I layed on my bed. The on-top-of-the-world Reba McEntire was gone. Now it was just me, Reba. No more fans screaming my name. No more music, no more adrinaline from the crowd. I was a normal person again, left to deal with regrets and pain. And with every clap of thunder, and every streak of lightning on the wall, more grief pounded it's way into my body.


	2. Chapter 2

*****Chapter Two*****

It's been 2 weeks since I've seen Lydia and Thomas. She posted our picture on twitter and tagged me in it, with the caption saying 'Best night of my life'. After all of these years, it's still such an honor to see hard core fans like her, but deep down I know that it is becoming more and more uncommon. Sure, everyone knows who I am. But not many people truly notice me anymore. I still have a large fan base, but every year I can notice it shrinking. People these days are more interested in the young new artist, with their upbeat tempos and their 'swag', whatever the hell that means. At 46, people aren't very amused by me anymore. But hey, I'm not complaining. Give me one fan to sing to and I'll be completely fine.

The house is so quiet. Especially tonight. The kids went to their dads for the weekend, and considering it's Friday, I'm trying to find some way to get me through the next few days. Lately I've been trying to write more songs, but it's just not flowing like it did when I was younger. Like always, I ended up throwing my pen and cussing at nothing, my inner redhead coming out. Then I just laid on the couch, actually bored for the first time in ages. I've always had work, or some new project to tend to. But nothing was on my schedule, the disses were washed, and the clothes were in the dryer. So I just laid there. Eventually, memories of Brock seeped back into my mind. That's been happening a lot lately, though I don't know why. Brock and I were married 20 years. We've know each other our whole lives. When I left home at 18 to begin my career, he was the only one who supported me; no one else, not even my own family, believed in me. He had vowed to always protect me, which is something I desperately needed, despite how independent I knew I was. One time, he even drove all the way from Texas to Tennessee, when he was only 20, because he knew I was in trouble.

Brock has always been seen as a rugged cowboy type. He comes across strong, set in his ways, and maybe a little grumpy. But through all of our years together, he loved my in a way that I didn't think was possible. He protected me. He would hold me every time it would storm, and whisper the sweetest of words in my ear. Why he cheated on me, I'll never know. It was probably my fault. I got lost in my fame and almost forgot about him. He had his faults too, however, that lead me to act that way. But all of the details of our divorce is a story for later. When I think about him, I try to just brush it off. I can make it on my own, I know it. But still, this sitting and thinking doesn't doing me any good. I needed something to take my mind off of things. So, for the first time in 3 years, I decided to take a bubble bath.

The water was warm and smooth as it brushed against my foot. I allowed my leg to test the water, and after deciding it wasn't too warm, I dropped my robe and slipped in. As my body slipped into the water, I felt my troubles slip away. I had a glass of wine with me, and with every sip I was more and more content. I lifted my leg from the water and watched the steam rise from my skin. Twirling my foot around, I felt so at peace. That's when I saw my phone light up out of the corner of my eye. I reached over and looked at the screen. Seeing that familiar number, my breath caught up in my chest.

I've had his number memorized for 6 years now. I never wanted to save it in my phone, but I needed to know which number to avoid on those nights when he would call. I honestly can say I've forgotten about him. Sure, I think about it every now and then. But he hasn't talked to me in 4 years, so it's been getting easier to forget. Until he text me. I was still in shock, looking at the screen. 2 years of hell, 4 years of silence, and now he's going to send me a casual 'Hey stranger. How have you been?'. I quickly locked my phone and through it back down. I wasn't going to think about this. No, not tonight. I wasn't going to think about the pain he put me through, physically, emotionally, and sexually if that makes any sense. I wasn't going to think about the way he broke the remaining pieces of my heart. About the way he took complete advantage of me and my life when I was in my most vulnerable of times. But, as I sunk into the hot water, and the wine warmed my insides, I found myself thinking of something else. How did he do this to me? He could get in my head and make me forget all of the misery and regret of our relationship, and focus on the few nights of pleasure he gave me. Pleasure I needed so bad. I knew I shouldn't, but I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I shut out everything else, and began to play out the night we met. It was a night that marked the beginning of a horrible, horrible string of events that I've kept hidden from the people I've loved the most. But it was also one of the most daring, exotic nights of my life. He made me feel something I hadn't felt in years. John Callahan made me feel sexy. And sometimes that's all a girl wants. Am I right?


	3. Chapter 3

*****Chapter Three*****

The memory came clearly to me. I had just gotten back to Nashville after a week of being in New York on Broadway. The kids were on vacation with Brock and his 'new love', and would be gone for the next week. That meant I'd already been through 1 week of not seeing my children, and had 1 more to go. I didn't know how I was going to do this. One month you're a some-what normal family, and the next your husband is with a woman half your age and your teenage daughter is pregnant. Sure, I knew our marriage had problems. But it was me and Brock. In my heart, I knew we would work it out. I had no clue it would end like this. And with Cheyenne, I was just as much surprised. She was just 17, and pregnant. My baby was pregnant. It was too much to take in, especially all at once.

They were all going on a vacation to Hawaii, a trip I suggested. Brock and the kids needed to work things out. I had no idea his blond doofus would be going with them. Knowing this, and coming home to an empty house, has affected me drastically. Was there something wrong with me? Have I been doing it all wrong? Being a wife? A mother? My mind was scattered. On impulse, I decided to do something I hadn't done in years. I decided to go to a bar. Alone.

My friends had been trying to get me out since the divorce, and we've been to bars and clubs a lot lately. But with all of the emotions I was feeling, I decided I wanted something. To this day, I'm still not sure what it was that I wanted. All I knew was that I was going to a bar alone, in search of a strong, strong feeling. I was being reckless, something I hadn't done in years.

Going into my closet, I picked out a low cut black top, with my bombshell bra pushing my breast higher than they've been pushed in years. I put on the tightest jeans I owned, and some kick-ass black boots. 20 minutes later, with my red lipstick and black eyeliner, I was out the door without a doubt in my mind.

Roy's was an old bar on the outskirts of Nashville, known for its crazy drunks and parking lot fights. I grew up in places like this, and was ready to go back- Even though I was a smart woman and knew what lied ahead.

I took another sip of wine and sunk deeper into the water, closing my eyes tighter. I was reminding myself of all of the feelings I felt that night, and was ready to relive it all. I took a deep breath in and remembered the scene of the bar- the smoky air, the men staring at me, and the dim lighting. And then I saw him. I felt myself grow hot as I recall looking across the room and making eye contact with him. It happened when I first got to the bar, and didn't happen again until right before I left. On the back of his motorcycle. Now, scene by scene, every detail came to me and I remembered the night perfectly.

I stood facing the wall at the end of the bathroom hallway, just to the side of the bar, looking down at my phone. The kids had tried to call, probably to tell me goodnight like every other night. I was trying to get service and a quiet place to call back. Just seeing their name on my phone made guilt pound in my chest. Only for a quick second, though. I heard "Oh my gosh, that's Reba McEntire!" a few times from the end of the hallway, but pretended I didn't notice. Then, I heard "You know she's single now." from a man with a deep voice. I turned to see a tall man surrounded by a group of good-looking men, probably in their 30s, all looking at me with obvious intentions in their eyes. They appeared out of nowhere, and were blocking the way back into the bar.

"Hey baby girl. How are you holding up?" The tall man asked as he walked towards me. The others stayed behind. I flipped my phone shut and turned to him, unsure what I was thinking. "You've been in the media a lot lately. I know it must be hard." He drew out his southern accent, and approached me. I knew he was referring to Brad and Cheyenne. He was so close now I could feel his breath breathing danger into my face.

"No, I'm fine. I'm better without that dick, anyways." What was wrong with me? In a million years I could never imagine talking like that. Especially about Brad. It was just that night..Something about it..I felt unstoppable. Empowered.

"Well, I know you're just getting rid of one, but I have another dick that's been waiting just for you." He said, and suddenly pushed his body into me, pressing me up against the wall. He pressed his lips hard against mine. I tried to scream, but there was so much pressure on my body I couldn't even breathe. My mind was clouding up, but I could still hear his friends shouting stupid remarks and laughing in the background. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and I felt his manhood, now hard, pressed up against me. Panic rose in my stomach. On instinct, I bit down hard on his tongue. He yelped and drew back quickly. He yelled a cuss word and grabbed onto his mouth. I tried to get away, but with his other arm he threw me back against the wall. That's when I noticed his stupid friends had gone completely silent. The tall man pulled his hand from his mouth and saw blood.

"You little bitch." He said. "Now I know for sure what I'm going to do to you." He said, returning to his position and pressing harder than before against me. Just as I was about to cry, his head quickly jutted to the side, and the tall man hit the ground with a thud. Standing in the space behind him was the man I saw when I first entered the bar. Behind him, most of the tall man's friends were gone, and the only two left were on the ground holding their stomachs in pain.

"C'mon." The man who just knocked out tall guy and his friends, and who possibly saved my life, grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out from the hallway. I reluctantly walked behind him as he led us to the bar. He pulled out the stool for me, and ordered two Miller Lites, which is what I had been drinking when he first saw me. He was casual, as if none of that had happened.

We sat there quietly until the bartender brought our drinks.

"Thank you." I mumbled to the man, not wanting to make eye contact.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Showing up at a bar looking so damn sexy?" He immediately asked, as if he had been waiting for me to break the silence. I was surprised by the bluntness of the question, and the deep rasp to his voice.

"I, um.." For the first time ever, a man had me speechless. I looked down at my beer.

"Men around here don't care who you are. If you're single, and wearing something like what you've got on, they'll find a way to have their way with you." He said. I looked up, and for the first time, stared into the eyes of this mysterious man. They were hazel, with golden tents around them. He had shaggy black hair and a structured face. He was built, and had a body that made my stomach flutter. He was absolutely stunning. I haven't felt like this about anyone since Brad. It was such a strange moment. But of course, no matter how sexy or hypnotizing you are, I'm still a stubborn redhead and set in my ways. I wasn't going to let a man make me feel stupid for dressing like a whore for one night of my life.

"I know exactly how men work." I said, straightening my posture and regaining my confidence. "And I knew exactly what I was getting myself into by coming here dressed like this." A half smile came to his lips and danced in his eyes. I watched as he skimmed down my body and then back up, stopping at my breast and being overly obvious about it. "I knew men like you would look at me like that." I said, enjoying the fact that the tables had been turned. I slid my hand to the bottom of my shirt and tugged down a little, trying not to make it obvious to the people around us. I felt the fabric slide down as more of my cleavage was being shown. His eyes got bigger. He was putty in my hands. "I'm thinking that you didn't save my ass just to save my ass. You're wanting something in return.'' Actually, I knew that for a fact, but somehow I was okay with it. What was wrong with me that night?

"And what if that just so happens to be the case?'' He said, finally looking up and pulling a cigarette out of his shirt pocket.

"Well, on any other night I'd say thank you and leave as fast as I could. I know your type." He lifted his eyebrows and lit his cigarette. "But tonight, I sat down with you, let your eyes wonder all over my body, and let you buy me a drink, which is a sign that from this point anything could happen." He smirked.

"Technically I haven't bought your beer yet. For all you know I just ordered it for you and was expecting you to pay." He leaned closer.

"I see." I responded. "But if you buy the drink, I'll consider this a date. If I buy it, you're just some random guy at the bar. And I don't act this way with random guys at the bar." I said matter-of-factly as I pulled my shirt back up, covering most of my cleavage.

"But if this were a date, you would act that way?" He said, obviously amused as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Tonight I would."

He threw a 20 on the bar right as the bar tender was passing. As he brought it to the register and get his change, the man stared at me in a way I've never been stared at before. I knew he was danger. And I loved that. What was wrong with me that night.

"What's your name?" I finally asked.

"John. Callahan." He responded as the bartender brought his change. She Thinks His Name Was John flashed in my head, and I tried not to laugh at the irony. "So," he began, shoving his change in his pocket and putting out the cigarette that he had somehow managed to smoke most of. "I saved your ass and payed for your drink," He said, leaning close to me and putting his hands on my knees. "Now what?"

I bit my lip and looked around the bar. This was wrong. I'm a mother, for God's sake. I wasn't supposed to be doing stupid stuff like this. But as his hands slowly slid up my thighs, and the fire in his eyes grew brighter, I knew my better judgment didn't have a chance. I haven't felt this way in years, and dammit I deserved it! No matter how much I told myself I shouldn't, I knew deep down I was going home with John Callahan. The next few minutes were a blur as he led me out of the bar and helped me onto his motorcycle.

I've never ridden a motorcycle before, and lost my balance several times trying to get, and stay, on the seat. Only now looking back do I realize that I wasn't wearing a helmet, and John had had at least two beers. Was it a wise decision? No. But nothing was that night.

The water in my bathtub had started to cool. Keeping my eyes shut and my head leaned back, I used my foot to slowly start the warm water. I could vividly remember that ride to his house. But instead of being filled with anxiety, like when I usually think of him, I found myself smiling, lost in the moment just as I had been 6 years ago. As I imagined the cool air brushing against my face as we sped down a back road, I let my hand slide over my arms and shoulders, feeling the smoothness of my skin. I remember leaning my face into the back of his leather jacket, and wrapping my arms around him tightly, utterly terrified and laughing at the whole situation. How long had I been this close to a guy? Brock and I hadn't done anything like this for ages. As I remembered the smell of his cologne, I took a deep inhale and smelt the soapy bubbles getting closer to my shoulders as the water rose. Remembering the vibration of the motorcycle, hot between my legs and driving me crazy, I let my hand dip into the water and slide down my stomach. I remembered pulling into his house, a nice log cabin in the middle of nowhere, and walking on shaky legs to his front door. I remembered watching his face as he fumbled with his keys, and noticing how aged he looked up close. You could tell that man had been to hell and back. And man, it turned me on.

My hand wondered across my stomach and down between my legs as I remembered the events that happened next. By this point, I didn't even realize what I was doing to myself alone in my bath tub. No..By this point, I was with John. Walking up the stairs to his bedroom.

His room was dimly lit. He left me standing alone in the doorway as he walked into the master bath. We hadn't said a word the whole way home, but I was so confused I hardly noticed. I heard him begin to piss, and was reminded of how stupid men could be. Was this the time or place for that? No. It wasn't.

I heard him washing his hands as I went and sat down on his large bed. It was soft, and I sank into it. I was wondering just how many girls he had gotten into that bed as he walked out of the bathroom and stood in the doorway, just staring at me. Then, he slowly walked towards me. When he reached me, he pulled me up off of the bed, with a little too much force, and held me close enough to him to where our warm bodies were touching, but he could still see into my eyes. He touched my parted lips, and then closed his eyes as he leaned in to kiss me. I accepted his kiss quickly, and found myself pressing against him, wanted every part of him to myself. I felt him get harder, and myself get wetter, as he pulled away from my lips and began kissing my neck. I pulled the shoulder of my shirt down, begging him to keep going.

He lifted my shirt, and I felt my bare stomach against his belt. He was still kissing my neck, until he caught me by surprise by pushing me, again with a little too much force, back onto the bed. He stared into my eyes as he unbuttoned my pants and ripped them off of me. When Brock had done this, he stared at me with love. But there was no love with John-only lust.

After my pants were on the floor, he began kissing my stomach. I felt as if I were on fire as he slowly slid down to my panty line. His tongue went across each side of my underwear, teasing me by kissing the inside of my thighs. I wanted him so bad. I started pushing down my underwear, but he grabbed my hands and held them hard against the bed at my sides. His grasp was sturdy against my wrists. He continued to tease me, while holding on to my hands, for several seconds before he let go and slid off my underwear. When his mouth made contact with me, I felt fireworks of ecstasy explode inside of me. It had been so long since this had been done to me. Before long, I was moaning his name and using my hand to press his face as far into me as possible. My hips began rocking against him, and just as I felt the waves of orgasm approaching, he came up and grabbed onto my upper body, yanking me far enough off of the bed to rip off my bra. I unbuttoned his shirt as fast as I could, but it still wasn't fast enough. I found myself ignoring the last three buttons and ripping it open. He growled, and let out an evil, lust-filled laugh. He grabbed onto my wrists and held me down against the bed. He looked up and down my naked body, smiling.

"Keep your hands here." He commanded, pressing them hard against the bed above my head before removing his hands to take off his belt and pants. I followed his instructions, and waiting for him. I wanted him so badly, and moaned loudly when I saw his large manhood explode from his jeans. He returned his hands to my wrists, still holding them above my head, and slowly entered me, looking into my eyes. I was in shock as he filled me, and was in love with every detail of his face as he went in and out of me the first few times. After that, it became quick and forced. With every rough thrust, I felt myself closer and closer to orgasm. I was screaming in ecstasy, unable to move my hands, but urging him to keep going. Soon, the waves began to hit me, and I felt my body release into an explosion of pleasure. He came the same time as I did, not wearing a condom and not pulling out. But feeling him release inside of me made my orgasm so much better. Afterwards, I felt my body sink into the mattress as he released my hands. They were sore, and the next day I had light bruises on my wrists.

We continued to have sex for the rest of the night, each time more violent, yet needing, than the last. I even found myself slapping him a few times. But we needed it. We needed each other. Without saying a word, we knew it.

The memories of that night brought me to my own pleasure in my warm bath. But after my moment was over, and I realized how stupid I had been that night, I was filled with regret. I wish I could go back in time and stop myself after that night. But then again, how was I to know what I was getting myself into? How was I to know that that night was the start of one of the most awful periods of my life?

At the same time, however, the sex with him was amazing. The feeling of him by my side, leading my farther into danger than ever before, was exhilarating. And now, I had the chance to relive it all again. Was it worth it? Was it worth the pain he caused me? Maybe I'll sleep on it. All I know is that there is a text from him on my phone, and I'm expected to reply. And I know exactly what he wants. Even after 6 years, men like him don't change.

I could ignore the text, and ignore the temptation, but that could make him mad. And I don't want that. Or I could reply, and simply give in. I could spend the next few weeks in utter joy with that man, and then the next 6 years emotionally and physically scarred. Either way, it was up to me. And now I'm alone, stuck wondering to myself the question that hasn't left my mind all this time- Was it worth it?


	4. Chapter 4

-Chapter 4-

I decided to not acknowledge the text for now. It was almost ten o'clock. I'll respond tomorrow and convince him I was asleep. But until then, I had to think. I walked down to the kitchen, refilled my wine, and then sat on the couch to watch TV. But of course, I couldn't pay attention to whatever I was watching. My thoughts were elsewhere.

It's been so long since I've felt the warmth of a man. My last relationship had been almost a year ago. Jack and I were never serious, anyways. We shared a few kisses, and he held me close to him once to keep me warm when it was cold; but that was it. But one day, he just up and left. I didn't hear from him until several months later when he magically showed up expecting things to be okay...I also found out around then that his divorce wasn't even final. Plus, on top of that, he was my ex husband's marriage councilor. Actually, looking back, our whole relationship was kind of messed up.

That alone brought a whole new line of ideas to my mind. Brock and Barbara Jean. Their relationship was rocky lately. About two months ago, Brock decided to move back into his condo, and they're working on the divorce papers now. I guess I should be relieved... Their split was some-what expected, and something they each wanted. It was easy, with few hard feelings or regrets. And that's good. Especially with the kids- they don't need to see another messy divorce. But at the same time, I don't think they need to see another divorce at all. Sometimes, I get so worried about them. Seeing their father go through two divorces, one of them involving cheating, must be hard on them. I want them to grow up knowing what true love is. I don't know how to set an example, when I can't even find true love myself.

Just then, my phone rang. I jumped as John's face came to my mind. I reached for my phone and flipped it around, relieved to see Van's big goofy face on my caller ID.

"Hey Mrs.H, howya doing?" Ever since I first met Van, when Cheyenne first brought him home to meet me and Brock, I noticed something about him. Whatever he is feeling, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, you can tell it in his voice. And even with his casual cover-up, I could tell he was stressing something. Also, I heard the way his voice shook when he said 'Mrs.H', meaning he was probably about to get yelled at by me. I still don't understand why it's 'Mrs.H', considering me and Brock aren't married anymore. But then again, there's a lot of things about Van that I don't understand.

"Van, its 10 o'clock at night. What are you doing?"

"Well, um-Cheyenne I'm telling her, calm down!" I heard him yell. "You see- ''

"Van, what's going on?" Okay, now he was worrying me.

"Well Mrs.H, it's a long story. You see, Mr.H just came home and-''

"Just came home? Where has he been?" I asked.

"Okay, let me talk Mrs.H. When we all got here, he wasn't here. We tried to call him probably 100 times, but he wasn't picking up! He didn't leave a note or anything!"

"Van, why didn't you call me? Where was Brock? Is he okay?" I was so confused by this point.

"Well, ha, that's the funny thing. We were going to call, but Jake pointed out that if we didn't tell anyone, we'd have the whole condo to ourselves for the afternoon. So, um, we invited some people over and played some music...But it was all Jakes idea! You know how 13 year olds can be," I highly doubted it was Jakes idea, and anger was rising in my stomach. But I needed to hear the rest of his story, so I let him continue. "Everyone was out of the house by 9, because around that point we were starting to get worried. We were cleaning up everything when Mr.H came home." He stopped to catch his breath, and I realized that that was probably the only reason he called me. To tell me that.

"Van are you serious? Your wife's father is missing, and instead of showing a hint of concern, you throw a party? You're a father for God's sake! Where is Elisabeth? Was she there? How about Jake and Kyra...How do I know y'all weren't doing drugs? Van, are you listening to me? Sometimes I swear to goodness I wish you were my own kid so I could beat you silly!" I was beginning a new rant about how he hasn't been helping Kyra with her homework like he promised, when he cut in.

"Mrs.H, Mr.H was out drinking again." So that's what he wanted to say. I got silent.

"Oh.." I felt speechless. "Do I need to come get y'all?" I asked quietly.

"No, he's passed out on the couch. Cheyenne says we'll be fine here tonight. He looks a little sick in the face, so Cheyenne wants to stay and keep an eye on him."

"Did the kids see him like that?" My voice was quiet. Van had never heard me so fragile before, but these last few weeks he's been seeing it more and more. And he understands, too. As much as I like to pick on him, he is a sweet kid.

"Elizabeth was asleep, but Jake and Kyra did." I could tell it hurt him to tell me this. It was silent for a few seconds. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. Why was he doing this? He hasn't done it much, but every since our divorce, he's slowly gotten worse and worse. He was never a mean drunk, just a stupid drunk. Either way, kids didn't need to see their daddy like that. It also left me wondering what was going on in Brock's mind. As much as I try to hate him, the fact is that Brock and I shared something that most couples could only dream of finding. We had more than love. And even though we ended badly, I could never erase those feelings that are locked deep down in my soul. And, call me stupid, but I know that with every fiber of his being, Brock feels the same. You don't just 'move on' after what we shared. And now, knowing that is has stopped talking to his friends, stays home most of the time, and finds himself drinking alone at night, it breaks my heart.

But now wasn't time for emotions. I'm a mother whose children need her. The phone had been silent this whole time. My voice was raspy. "I'm coming to get y'all. You arn't staying there with him like this."

"But Mrs.H, Cheyenne won't-"

"Oh yes she will. Tell her she's not staying there. Her daddy will be just fine. He needs some quiet, though. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Be looking for me."

"But-"

"Van."

"Okay."

I hung up the phone, grabbed my robe, and threw on my boots.

The 10 minute drive to Brock's condo seemed to take ages. The street lights blurred my vision, and it was all I could do to see straight. It had began to drizzle, and the atmosphere seemed soft and fuzzy, slowly closing in around me on the small street. Again I wondered, why was he doing this? What kind of problems is he facing to bring him to this? I first noticed this after the first month of our divorce. I walked into his house to find him alone on the couch with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and crying softly. In our 20 years of marriage, I've never seen Brock cry. That was the first time. I remember it to this day. It scarred me to see the man who cared for me so much, who loved me so much, hurt the way he was. I prayed for him, and hoped for my sake that I never had to see him like that again. It didn't happen again until later that year, when Barbara Jean called me in tears, saying Brock was passed out in the kitchen. Other than that, it's only happened a few times, and the kids have never known. But he's had these kind of meltdowns 4 times in the last 3 months, and the kids saw 2, including this. I know Brock would never hurt the kids in any way while he was drunk- He wasn't that kind of person. But still.. If seeing him stumbling sideways with tears in his eyes disturbed me, it sure as heck would disturb them. And they didn't need that.

I sped up a little faster, wanting to get the condo as soon as possible. The rain was picking up and I didn't want to be driving in it. There were few cars out on the back road from my house into the part of town where Brock was, and it casted an eerie vibe on the road. Suddenly, a huge bolt of lightning lit up the sky, tearing through the blackness above me. It was followed by a blast of thunder, and my heart caught up in my chest_. Not now_, I told myself. I gripped onto the wheel tighter and pressed down on the gas a little harder.

I was almost to the condo when another strike hit, bringing with the kind of thunder that is quick, and loud enough to be heard from miles away. I jumped in my seat. I could feel my palms sweating and my stomach churning. My heart was beating fast. I felt anxiety set in as I saw the condo in my headlights. I grabbed my umbrella I kept under the seat, prepared myself to cover up what this storm was doing to me, and ran through the mud up to the front door, which was unlocked. I pulled off my boots and walked in, trying to make my shaky breath sound calm.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Mom? Oh hey. What are you doing here?" Kyra came around the corner. I could tell by the look on her face that she knew, even though she acted clueless.

"I'm here to take y'all home, honey. Where's your father?"

She looked down. "Up in his room laying down. I think he's asleep."

"Okay, thank you. Go get Jake and Elizabeth ready. I'm going to go make sure your father is okay, and then we're leaving." I walked towards his room, and completely avoided the thought of what condition he was in. I walked into his bedroom, feeling almost awkward, as if I didn't belong there. I hadn't heard anymore of the thunder or the rain. It was a strangely quick storm, which was odd yet relieving.

All was silent in Brock's room. He was laying face down on the middle of the bed, wearing his clothes from the day and not even bothering to take off his boots. I walked slowly towards him.

"Brock?" I stood on the side of his bed, looking down at him. He moved a little, and turned his face to the side. I could see a small cut and bruise under his eye, and I automatically wondered what he had gotten himself into. I sat down on the empty space on the bed and gently rubbed his back. "Brock, wake up for me." I whispered. Although he seemed to be out cold, I was surprised when he twitched a little, and then rolled on his back, peeking his eyes open just enough to see me.

"Reva? Is that shu?" He mumbled. I could hardly make out what he had said.

"Yeah, it's me. Brock, please come to your senses. I need to talk to you." He let out a low giggle, and I smelt alcohol on his breath. "Brock." I said sternly. I talked through clinched teeth, suddenly angry at this man who was doing this to our children. And me. I was angry for what he _did. _He broke my heart. And seeing him giggle while I felt as if I were dying on the inside made me very angry. "Get up. Now." He giggled again. That was it. I went into the bathroom, and filled the little cup by the sink up with cold water. I came back to the bed and poured it on him. He jolted up and cursed.

"Red, what thahell!" He slurred, almost falling out of the bed. I didn't attempt to catch him, and watched as he gripped onto the sheets at the last minute, and slowly slid down to the floor. There he sat against the bed with his legs spread and a dull, sad look on his soaking face. "Why'd shu do that?"

"Brock, what is wrong with you? Why were you drinking so much? And where did you go? Did you drive home like this? Oh Brock, you know better! Did it ever even cross your mind that this was your weekend with the kids? They needed you Brock! They need you! They need you to be strong for them, and you're doing this?" He looked at me with bloodshot eyes. I could see the sadness in them, and, as mad as I wanted to be, it broke my heart. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and then sat down beside him on the floor. I didn't say anything. Looking over at him, I noticed his head kept slowly falling as his eyes would close, and then right before his head dropped too low he would snap up and open his eyes, just to do it again.

I studied his face. He had more wrinkles than I ever remembered him having. Most were around his eyes. I looked closely at the bruise I had seen earlier. It wasn't a big one, and would probably be gone in a few days. But still, I wondered where and how he got it. I was lost in my thoughts and his face when he turned his head and looked at me. He just stared, and let out a low sigh.

"Okay, I understand." He awkwardly responded. I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but I let him continue. "It's just.. I can't... Keep goin.." He mumbled. My heart warmed and the anger left me. "I just can't." A tear pooled in his eye, and I watched him fight hard to keep it from falling. When it finally did, he let out another sigh and looked forward again. Not thinking, I reached over and brushed it off of his cheek. I kept my hand there as he turned his face and looked at me again. I slowly slid up his cheek bone with my pointer finger, and softly stroked the bruise and cut under his eye, hoping to erase it completely. He winced.

''What happened?" I whispered.

"I dunno." He responded, not looking away from my eyes. I moved my hand to where I was cupping the side of his face and brushing the bruise with my thumb, careful not to hurt him. I looked him up and down, trying to find anymore evidence of what had happened. Every time I came back to his face, he was staring at me. He didn't take his eyes off of me once. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that it was too much for me. I wanted to make these feelings I was beginning to get stop before they became too big. Right before I was about to break the eye contact and move my hand, Cheyenne and Van walking into the room. They each stopped when they saw us.

Cheyenne looked at her father sympathetically. Van stood a step behind, and looked at me with an uncomfortable face, as if he had walked in on something he shouldn't had. "Is dad okay?" Cheyenne asked. Before I could answer, Brock began to move, and grabbed onto the sheets to pull him back into bed. He stayed on the floor and the sheets popped off of the bed. He started cussing, and kept grabbing for something to pull him up.

"He'll be fine." I mumbled under my breath as I quickly stood up and helped him into bed. He returned to the position I found him in, and I draped the covers over him. "Your dad is probably just a little stressed, what with the divorce and all." I said, trying to pass it off as not a big deal. "We need to give him some time to recover."

"Mom, no! Dad is in no state to be left alone right now. What if he hurts himself?" She whined.

"Why is Mr.H's pillow and hair wet?" Van asked in the background. No one acknowledged the question.

"Cheyenne, he is out cold. He just needs time to get it together. Now c'mon. We need to start heading home now, just incase the rain starts up again."

"But Mom-"

"Cheyenne!" I surprised myself at the way I yelled at her. "In the car, NOW." I practically screamed. She looked at me with a hurt and offended look, and then stomped out of the room. Van followed behind.

I turned around one last time, and stroked the side of Brock's face. He was in a deep sleep and already had drool going down the side of his mouth. I had so many thoughts in my mind at that point, but I didn't want to think of them. I pushed them away as I yanked off his boots and pulled the covers over his feet.

When I finally walked outside, I was relieved to see the rain had stopped completely, and pleased with the kids that they were all in the car waiting for me.

The ride home was long. No one spoke. Once we pulled into the house, I turned off the car, and we all sat there in silence. I knew I had to say something.

"Listen, kids. I'm not sure what's going on with your father. It's probably nothing big.. But we all need to be supportive of him, okay?" I heard muffled agreements from the backseat, all except Cheyenne, who was still upset that I yelled at her. "Just know he loves all of you very, very much." I fought back my tears, and then turned around to face them, smiling. "Now, we've all had a hard night. I suppose I'll forget about the little 'party' you guys threw." Jakes eyes got big when he realized I knew.

"It was all Van's idea!" He screamed.

"Okay, okay.. I said I'll forget about it. I know this hasn't been easy on any of us. So, how about we go inside and have some ice cream and then call it a night?"

"Ice cream this late?" Van asked in amazement. "Awesome!" Seeing his whole face light up made me smile.

"I know. Y'all don't go _too _crazy on me. You do need sleep."

They all jumped out of the car smiling and ran inside. Even Cheyenne, whose mood changed faster than a stop light.

After cleaning the mess in the kitchen and making sure everyone was in bed, I went to my room. It felt good to finally sink into my mattress. I was so exhausted as I let out a deep breath. I thought of the events of the day.. The weird, quick storm that came from no where, the look on Brock's face as he stared into my eyes, the helplessness I felt as I told Cheyenne she couldn't stay with her father.. Needless to say, I was ready for sleep. I drifted off into sleep within a few minutes. I shifted a little when I heard Jake sneak out of bed to go get more ice cream down stairs. I rolled over to my side when the rain started again, and the wind began to howl against the windows. But when my phone lit up by my bed and another text from John appeared on the bright sleep, I was far too gone to notice.


	5. Chapter 5

***Thank y'all so much for the reads and reviews! It means the world to me!

I've updated it, so make sure you've read the second part of Chapter 4 before reading this! Also, it's kind of graphic. Keep in mind that I tried to make it as appropriate as possible. Anyways, leave a review and enjoy! :)***

Chapter 5

"John, I didn't come here for that. I left my phone here last night, so I came to get it. Now please, hand me my phone so I can leave." I stood in front of John shaking. He towered over me and held my phone above his head.

"Oh, I see how it is. You expect to come here every time you're 'in the mood', and then after one small fight, you come the next day acting like a completely different person? And then turn me down when I try to do something?" He growled, still holding my phone high.

"It wasn't a small fight, John. You pushed me. _Hard._" I said. I always vowed to never let a man push me around. So, after John pushed me into a wall when I called him a bad name, I decided I would never talk to him again. I just imagined his face on the way here, and what he would say when I walked in and told him I wouldn't take that ever again, and that I was leaving. I almost thought he'd cry. No, John didn't love me. But he loved what I gave him every night my kids were at their dads. And some days when they were home. I thought he was putty in my hands. So, his response caught me off guard.

"You had it coming." He growled. He stepped towards me. "Do you honestly think I'm going to let a woman talk to me like that? You may have the entire music industry bowing down to you and doing what you say, but that isn't going to work for me. I don't know who the hell you think you are." Where did that even come from?

"John, please. My kids are home. I just swung by after work to get my phone. So, please-"

"No!" He barked, "I'm not giving it back until you give me what I want." Who was this man? I knew John wasn't the nicest of men, and definitely not the most caring, but in the three months I've known him, I've never seen him like this.

The only times I've ever been scared of a man was back when over obsessive fans, the paparazzi, or even men at bars, would lay their hands on me and Brock would lose it. But he was doing it to protect me- I was just scared for the people who had to deal with him. Brock in protective mode was always ugly, and I was the only one who could calm him down. One time, he would have killed a man who grabbed my breast, had I not stoked his face and told him in my sweetest of voices to calm down. Brock flipping out always made me nervous, but at the end of the day, I was always glad he was that way. I've only seen him get that mad when it came to protecting me, and that made me feel safe. Secure. As if no one could ever hurt me. But now, I'm standing in John's kitchen, actually scared of him. No matter my fears, however, I had to stand my ground. I said my speech that I practiced the whole way to John's.

"Now listen John. I know I probably led you on, with all of the night's we've spent together. You know that you and me have both agreed that our relationship isn't serious. But here recently, I've realized that my kids need me. They're still recovering from the divorce, and Cheyenne is starting to feel how rough pregnancy can be. So, I need to be there for them. I can't spend my time doing stupid, childish things, like we've been doing. Plus, no matter what you think, you shoved me hard. I don't care what I said to you before- I didn't deserve that. I really had fun while we lasted, John. But my kids need me. And I don't think I can stay with a man like you much longer. You're too reckless for me. I'm sorry if I've hurt you. But I know you'll find someone to take my place. So, if you will please hand me my phone, I am leaving." I took a deep breath and held out my hand.

"Okay, I understand. You're done with me." He calmly said, lowering his arm. Something didn't seem right. "Do you want your phone?"

"Yes." I answered annoyed, considering I had already asked him twice.

He chuckled. "I don't think I can do that." With an unexpected flip of his arm, he threw my phone through the kitchen entryway and into the livingroom. I jumped, and heard it shatter as it hit the wall. He looked down at me and stepped closer.

"John! Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?" I demanded, anger rising in my throat.

"You had it coming." He repeated, stepping closer and closer with each word he said. "I told you you weren't getting it until you gave me what I wanted. But for some reason today, you think you're better than that, huh? Better than me?" He reached me and grabbed my arm, yanking me towards his lowered face. "Well you're not! You're worthless!" He screamed in my face. I was paralyzed with fear, and could hardly think of the words to say.

"J-John, let go of me!" I tried to yell, but it was no more than a quiet demand.

His grip tightened. "I gave you your chance. You should have known coming into my house that we were going to fuck no matter what. You could have just agreed. You would have got your phone, and I would have been nice about it. But you decided to act the way you did." He spit as he spoke. "Come on, baby. We're going upstairs." He began dragging me into the living room, where I saw the pieces to my phone. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. I knew what he wanted from me, and I refused to let it happen.

"Let go of me! Now, John! Let GO!" I yanked the lamp off of the table with my free arm, and began hitting him with it. He hunched down, and I heard crashes as I brought the lamp down hard against his back.

"Knock it off!" He flung his other arm around, flinging the lamp across the room. He pulled me harder. As we reached he stair case, I could see blood through his shirt. I began punching him and kicking him as hard as I could. He stopped, and almost fell to the ground under the weight of my blows.

"You bastard!" I screamed, while trying to get away from him. Then, in one sudden movement, he turned to face me, let go of my arm, and grabbed onto my face. His thumb and this fingers were each on the sides of my mouth, and he pressed my cheeks in so hard it brought a tear to my eye.

"Listen here, bitch. I'm trying so hard to be nice. I don't want to bruise that perfect body of yours before I have my way with it. But you're making this hard on me." I fought back a tear as he gripped my cheeks harder. "Now please, cooperate. I don't want to have to make you." As soon as he let go, however, I brought my arm around and threw my fist into his face. I heard a crack as his jaw bone made contact with my knuckles, causing them to sting. His head swung to the side, and in an instant, without even grabbing his face, he turned around on punched me hard in the eye. I fell to the ground with a thud as my vision blurred out. He chuckled, leaning down. "You won't ever do that again after tonight." He picked me up and brought me into his room. I felt my eye throbbing and swelling, and I was scared to open it. I was also scared to fight back. I never imagined I'd let a man do this to me. But I've also never been in this situation. I was absolutely terrified by him at this point, and wanted to please him just so he didn't do that again.

As he laid me on the bed, tears began to stream down my face, causing my eye to burn. The comfort of the bed felt so good to my stinging back and neck, which hurt from my fall. I kept my eyes closed and tried to stop my tears and control my breathing. I heard him digging around in a drawer, and hoped he was getting a condom. We had used one every night besides our first night together. Soon, I heard him walk in. He sat on the bed. I closed my eyes tighter.

"I'm sorry, baby girl. You just need to listen to me, okay?"

I wanted to scream no, but I couldn't. I couldn't even move. I just opened my eyes and stared at him, wanting him to see my pain. But he didn't. He didn't see my tears or my swollen eye. He didn't see all the pain and heartache I had built up inside of me. He just smiled. He actually smiled. Then he rose from the bed and took off his clothes.

"You can just lay there if you want." He made it sound as if he was being generous. But, I did as he suggested and watched as he took off my jeans. My back stung as he lifted me up and took off my top, bra, and underwear. He eased himself on top of me, and forced his way in. I wasn't wet, and his hardness rubbed against my most sensitive parts, causing me to whimper. He wasnt' wearing a condom like I had hoped. Each one of his thrust hurt me, and I couldn't help but cry harder.

"Please stop.." I said softly, feeling the coolness of my tears roll down my jaw. He sighed.

"Yeah, that wasn't too great for me either." He said as he pulled out. He was acting so normal, as if nothing had happened. I thought that maybe I had been saved, and we were done. My stomach dropped as he spread my legs and started kissing my thighs. He must had seen the look on my face, because he brought his face up to mine and kissed my ear.

"Stop thinking about everything and just enjoy this." He whispered in my ear. His rough, southern voice sent chills through my body. He returned to his position, but I was still tense. Seeing my face, he glared up at me. His eyes were terrifying, and I immediately dropped my shoulders and let out a sigh. I put a pleased look on my face. He smiled, and then continued kissing my thighs.

_Don't enjoy this, don't enjoy this,_ I told myself as he inched closer and closer to where I secretly wanted him to be. _This is wrong, don't let this happen. _His tongue pressed into the crevice where my thigh ends and my lady parts begin. He darted his tongue across between my legs, making me shake with brief pleasure, and he went to the other side and did the same. _Stop thinking like this, remember what he did to you. _He grabbed my knees and spread my legs farther, opening myself to him. Then, he slowly dropped his head and softly kissed the top of me, and then slid his tongue down deep into the pleasure center between my legs. _Don't let him...Oh my gosh... _His tongue darted back and forth against my most sensitive part, and I knew there was no more fighting it. Then, he covered it with his mouth and began gently sucking, making my legs shake and clench around his head. _Oh...My...Gosh... _I didn't want to moan. I didn't want him to know how good he was making me feel. I bit my lip hard trying to hold it back. But as my climax slowly reached me, I couldn't hold it anymore. I let out a load moan, arching my back and letting my head fall down. Knowing he had me where he wanted me, he let out a long, deep chuckle. His mouth was still covering me, and the vibrations from his laugh brought on more pleasure. My toes clinched as I felt his tongue pushing inside of me. I sat up, propping myself with one arm, and used the other to clinch his hair. Finally, I felt that familiar feeling creep up my body, and my breath caught in my throat as pleasure flooded every part of me.

"Oh John..." I softly uttered as my body relaxed and I fell back into the bed. He slid up my body, and brought his face up to mine. He was smiling, and his mouth and chin were soaking wet, turning me on again. _Well, there's no fighting anymore. Boy, you're going to have a lot to deal with tomorrow._

He rose above me, and the gentle, pleased look on his face left. An evil smirk filled his face, and his eyes looked up and down my body. My knees were up and my legs were together. He grabbed them, and yanked them apart, making my inner thighs sting. He growled as I came out of my state of pleasure, and became filled with fear again. He held my legs apart, and then shoved his length into me. It still hurt, though not as bad as before, as he roughly forced himself in and out of me. His thrust were so hard, he held my shoulders down to keep me from moving with him. He let out deep moans and chuckles as he continued. Part of me was enjoying it, yet part of my was longing for it to end. I couldn't look at his face as he did this to me, so I stared at his chest.

He continued going strong for a few more minutes, and right as I felt a hint of pleasure in my stomach, he pulled out and flipped me around. I was so scared he would go through the wrong entrance, something that I've never done. But I was relieved to feel him enter from the same spot as before. He began pounding into me, and eventually started slapping my butt. Each slap stung and got progressively harder. It got so bad, I couldn't handle it anymore.

"Stop slapping me so hard, babe." I said aggressively. He pulled out, flipped me over, slapped my face, spread my legs, and entered me again.

"How do you like that?" He asked. My face stung, and I was in shock. I didn't like it at all.

"Be easy..." I mumbled. He slapped me again, harder this time.

"We're doing this my way, got it? You don't have a say anymore." He commanded. He rested his body down on mine, while continuing his harsh thrusts. He grabbed my face by the cheeks, like he had before. I winced with pain as his fingers pressed deep into my fleshy cheeks. He laughed. "You look kinda cute like this."

"It hurts. Please. Stop..." He lifted his hand long enough to slap me again, and then continued. I could tell he was reaching his climax by the way he was sweating and grunting, and his thrusts had gotten harder. I didn't like this, and tears came to my eyes as I felt the pain on my eye and cheeks. _Why was he doing this to me? What did I do? _I wanted something. I didn't know what, but I felt like I was missing something. Someone. A part of me didn't seem right. All of the sudden, I heard Brock's voice.

"I'm always going to keep you safe, okay?" I didn't know where it came from, but it felt like it was supposed to happen. The tears came freely and quickly as I remembered the man who only loved me gently. _Where was he? Why wasn't he with me? _Suddenly, right before John came, everything went white. I was at the scene of a car wreck. There was a violent storm, and I looked around trying to make sense of my surroundings. That's when I saw it.

I saw me, 16 years old, pulling 18 year old Brock out of the car. I watched as the thunder and lightning struck in the air around us. He was lifeless and unconscious as I drug us to a tree. I watched as the young me, so fragile and unaware of so many things, pulled Brock's head into my chest and held him, waiting for the paramedics to come. I cried as the storm raged on, and kept kissing his forehead. Suddenly, a clap of thunder hit, followed by the sound of strong wind against shaking windows. I opened my eyes, and found myself in my dark room. The only light came from the streaks of lightning outside my window, lighting the room up just enough to see the outline of my furniture. I turned on the light, and looked down to see solid sweat on my sheets. Catching my breath, I leaned back against the head board and realized it was all just a dream. Well, not exactly. My encounter with John happened, play by play. Everything was the exact same as what happened in my dream. I had always have vivid dreams, but never one that replayed something that had happened in the past. And then Brock and I... I wish that memory hadn't of been recalled. It reminded me just why I was scared of storms like this in the first place. And why maybe, just maybe, I might possibly miss Brock.

I checked my phone to see the time, and saw a new text from John. _'You there? I want to see you.' _It read. He sent it at 1:25, and it was 3:30 a.m., so surely he had already fallen asleep. After a dream like that, I was reminded of the beginning of what that man could do to me. I was scared, almost shaking, as I laid back down and tried to forget everything. I wanted to sleep, but ended up spending the rest of the night thinking about how to respond in the morning.

My alarm clock rang soon, at 6:00, and I was still staring at the ceiling thinking. I slowly got out of bed, and 'zombie walked', as Jake would say, to the shower. Afterwards, I got breakfast ready, woke up the kids, and tried to have a normal day. I pushed away the overwhelming, disturbing feeling my dreams had on me. Around noon, I came to my decision. I was too good for that man, and was lucky I got away from him. I wasn't dragging myself down that road again. I deleted his texts, and felt confident as I set down my phone. Now, my only concern was how he would react.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for the reads & reviews! I love positive & even negative feedback. It all helps me! Thank you so much, babes. :) ***

-Chapter 6-

The rest of my weekend surprisingly went about as smooth as my life could go. I actually got to bed early Sunday night, and Monday morning I beat traffic and got to work on time for the first time in ages. I was greeted with the usual when I walked in- My assistant with my coffee, a few people from the office updating me with new projects, and Brett, my hair stylist and make-up artist, asking for advise on what he should wear that night at the clubs. I forced a smile and responded to everyone the best I could. When I finally got to my office, I locked the door and sunk into my chair. So much was on my mind.

Where had that dream come from? The John one I could understand. I had been stressing over him ever since he sent me that text. Usually people dream about what was heavy on their mind. But with the memory of Brock… I had kept that forced in the back of my mind, and hadn't allowed myself to think of it in years. Even now, when storms came, it was less of a reminder of that awful crash, and more of a habit for my anxiety to attack. That fear deep inside of me that happened every time dark clouds were near became natural to me, and I hardly ever thought of the reasoning behind it. So yes, that dream was pretty random. Plus, I remember something else about last night. Something that I heard Brock say that had interrupted my dream with John. As hard as I strained my brain, I couldn't quite remember it. I decided to let it slide for now, knowing that as the day went on I'd recall more and more of my dream.

There really wasn't much to do that morning, so I took an early lunch around 11. When I came back to the office, however, things had sped up. I had a meeting about a new fall addition to my clothing line (I know, I never thought I'd have a clothing line either.), a meeting about the new stage setup for a tour I was planning, and a table read of the next episode of Malibu Country. Surprisingly, I somehow managed to walk back into my office at 4. I sat at my desk, ready to check the 'twitter world', when my thoughts were interrupted by my secretary, buzzing in from her desk at the front of the floor.

"Ms. McEntire, Brock Hart is here to see you." She said in her usual peppy voice. I bit my lip, realizing this is the first time I'd seen him since Friday, even though I wouldn't call that seeing him. Brock wasn't there.

"Send him in." I responded. I took a deep breath, and about a minute later, Brock lightly knocked on the door while slowly opening it. I pretended to be busy and highly focused on important work on my computer, while in actuality I was looking at a tweet from the username 'RebaMarryMe4589'.

"Hey." He said awkwardly. I looked up with a sigh, pretending I was in the middle of something. When I saw him, I realized that something wasn't right. His eyes were dark and his skin pale, obviously from the massive hangover he's probably still dealing with. But besides that, he looked...sad. He had aged so much. His eyes crinkled at the end, and glistened, almost making it look like he were crying. My heart ached.

"Hey," I almost whispered. "How ya holding up?"

"Better than Friday night." He chuckled, staring at the ground. He stood in place at the door, not moving at all. Big, tough Brock looked so vulnerable and weak right now. The way he was looking towards the ground, he almost looked guilty.

"You can sit down." I said, motioning to the seats in front of my desk.

"Thanks." He sighed as he eased into the plush chair. Up close, I could still see the bruise under his eye, but it had faded to where it was hardly noticeable. Right as I considered asking him about it, he broke the tense silence. "Listen.. I'm really sorry about last night. I should have remembered the kids were coming over. I guess I just didn't think it through." Obviously. I wanted to be mean in response, but the way he was looking down, and not making eye contact with me as he spoke, made me think there was more to the story.

"Brock, how could you forget? And why would you do that to yourself?" I knew the question had to be asked, but I said it softly and quietly, trying not to hurt him anymore than he already was.

"I'm not sure, Reba." Was all he said.

"C'mon, Brock-"

"Reba, I don't know why I did it. Okay?" He snapped back, finally looking into my eyes. It had been the first time he had intensely looked at me in a long time, and I could see pain in his eyes. Why didn't he want to talk to me about this? At that point, I was strongly considering jumping from my desk, grabbing his hand, and begging him to pour his heart out to me like he used to. But I knew I couldn't act like that. We were adults. This wasn't about mine and his relationship, it was about our children. I stiffened my back, and tried my hardest to say what needed to be said.

"Okay, I'll accept that. But next time, consider your children, okay? And me too. Do you think we want to see you like that? Especially them, Brock. They've been through enough hell already. Are you honestly going to put them through more?" That got to him. It broke my heart watching him stare at the ground, and I stopped. He had heard enough. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked quietly. He hadn't heard me so sympathetic since before we were divorced. But of course I care about him. I always have.

"I don't think I can." He chuckled, but it was obviously fake, used to ease the tension.

"I'll bet you can."

"Nah, I'm alright Red." He wasn't alright. He stood from the chair. "It was just a hard night." It was more than a hard night. He started walking towards the door. "But, I'm not going to do it again, okay?" He was going to do it again. He said goodbye, thanked me for my concern, and left.

I know my Brock. I have him figured out- always have, always will. There was something he wasn't telling me, and I was dying to know what it was. But, prying it from him would be no good. So, I went back to my Tweebas (Tweets..Reba..Cute huh?) and tried to forget about it all.

6:00 came quicker than expected, and to my luck there wasn't much traffic on the way home. I pulled into the drive, and walked in to find my family in the kitchen, doing what I find them doing every day when I come home from work. Kyra was doing her homework at the table, Jake was playing with Elizabeth, Cheyenne was trying, and failing, to make spaghetti, and Van was encouraging her to stop before she gave the whole family food poisoning.

"Oh Ms.H, thank God your here! Now Cheyenne won't have to cook for us!" Van yelled, causing a death glare from Cheyenne.

"Shut up, Van."

I sat down my purse and went to where she had started to cook, hoping I could fix her mess in time. Luckily, I could.

"How was everyone's day?" I asked. It came with a detailed response from everyone at once, except Kyra, who is a teenager, therefore isn't required to speak to me. I tried to listen and answer everyone the best I could. Eventually, dinner was ready and we all sat down and ate. I had to break up a few food fights, but other than that, everything turned out fairly well. Everyone helped clean up, and then went their separate ways to bed. Elizabeth ran up and gave me a goodnight kiss, then followed Van up the stairs dragging her teddy bear behind. _You're Gonna Be_ flashed through my head, and reminded me of the time I found out Cheyenne was pregnant. Soon afterwards I found that song, and knew I had to record it. _'Sometimes bad is good, we just have to believe things work out like they should'. _Somehow tonight, I found myself feeling very blessed. That is, until big-blonde-bimbo barged in my back door.

"Hey Reba! Long time no see!" I talked to her two days ago. But I went with it.

"Barbra Jean, I thought that surely when you and Brock got divorced, you'd find it even more awkward than before to come around here."

"And miss seeing my best friend? Pa-lease, Reebs." She giggled at herself for some-what rhyming, and I rolled my eyes. I went to clean the counter, and she sat on the bar stool, looking at me, expecting me to say something.

"What do you want, Barbra Jean?" She was just sitting there, and already annoying the heck out of me.

"I don't know. It's just, me and you never have any alone time. So, I thought maybe we can talk for a while. Do you have any love interest at the moment?" Why did she always go there?

"I don't know why you even ask me anymore. I rarely do, and if I did I wouldn't tell you." I mumbled, more focused on a stain that wouldn't come off rather than her.

"Okay, alright. I know. I do have to talk to you, though. It's kind of serious." That got my attention.

"What is it?"

"Well, with Brock drinking-"

"Barbra Jean, I don't know any more than you do. He's a mysterious man, and sometimes you just can't question him. It takes a lot to really get a good answer from him. He's not very good with his feelings, you know?" I didn't want to talk about this. At all. He wasn't my concern anymore. Right?

"I know, Reba. It's just that.. He's been doing this for so long.. I mean, as long as I've known Brock he's had problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since I met him, I could tell he wasn't right. We was always just... sad. And so serious about everything. Even after he started taking happy pills, it didn't seem like much had changed. Sometimes, when we first started living together, I'd walk in the room and he'd be sitting on the bed almost in tears with a bottle of Vodka in his hands. He does it all the time, I know he does. He's just really good at hiding it. Except when it gets bad. Like the other night.."

"Who told you?" Was all I could think to say at that point. I wanted her to answer, and I wanted to hear the rest of her story. Knowing Barbra Jean, I knew she'd do both.

"Kyra. She still talks to me a lot. It always makes me feel important when she comes to me with her problems." It makes me feel like crap. "But anyways. One time I actually found him in tears, holding a photo. He never let me see it though. I just think it's weird.. you know? That's part of the reason I agreed when he suggested the divorce. I feel like he's hiding so much. How did you deal with it?" I was so confused. Some of my confusion came from how serious Barbra Jean was being. I'd never seen her like that. The rest of it came from what she was saying. Brock? Problems? Was his drinking worse that I thought? And I remember the happy pills... But I always thought he was being dramatic. I never imagined he actually needed them. And crying? Brock crying? No, the man she was describing wasn't my Brock. But also, the man who left me for her wasn't my Brock. My Brock would never do that to me. Something must have happened to him. And with every part of me, I wanted to know what it was.

"Well, I never had to deal with it. Brock was never like that when we were married." I tried to sound casual.

"Really?" She was almost shocked.

"Yes, really. I've known him all of my life-The real Brock, that is. But he's turned into someone else. I'm just sorry you had to see that part of him. The him I knew was really something special." I knew I had said too much when I saw Barbra Jean's eyebrows rise at my comment.

"Do you ever miss him?"

"Whoa, Barbra Jean. I'm not having this conversation. Especially with you." I said as I put away my cleaning supplies. I tried to hide how surprised I was by her question.

"You can tell me, Reba. I know you must sometimes."

"Barbra Jean, enough! I am doing just fine on my own, thank you."

"I didn't say you weren't doing fine on your own. I know you are. I just asked if you missed him, that's all." She said, twirling her finger through her hair.

"Well, the answer is no. Now Barbra Jean, it's getting late-"

"But, you know he's still there for you, right? I mean, if you were to ever need him."

That caught me off guard. "What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"I'm just saying, Reba. Van told me about what happened a few months ago at your show in Arizona."

What? Why would he tell her about that? It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything. A crazy fan had snuck backstage, and came running at me when he found me in my dressing room. He meant to just hug me, but I guess he was overwhelmed. The security guards claimed he 'attacked me', and went as far as to tell me children that too! The whole situation was stupid and over dramatized.

"What does that have to do with any thing? It wasn't anything big. Plus, stuff like that happens all the time. I've been doing this for years, you know."

"I know, and that's my point. Just know that if anything were to get out of hand, the part of Brock that is overly-crazily-almost-scarily protective over you is always there." I didn't know what to say. Hearing this, especially from her, was very unexpected. "He's always going to keep you safe, okay?" And that's when it hit me. Those words that haunted the air in my dream, and lingered down into my mind all day, enough in the light for me to know they're there, but not enough for me to make out what they were. Until Barbra Jean repeated them.

I passed off the subject, and after a few kind words, and then some not so kind ones, Barbra Jean finally got the point that it was too late for this. She went home to the apartment she was staying in until her new house was finished, and I treaded upstairs. I checked my phone, and was relieved to see nothing new from John. Hopefully he was just looking for some late night fun, and ended up finding someone else to keep him satisfied for a few months. Surely he's forgotten about me.

But as I ran my bath water and began to soak in it's warmth, new thoughts entered my mind. What was going on with Brock? What's been going on with Brock?

I was able to push his words from my dream away by distracting myself with the conversation with Barbra Jean. But now that it was silent, no matter how hard I tried to push them away, they kept coming back. _"I'm always going to keep you safe, okay?" _I chuckled to myself. It was ironic, really. I heard that promise from the past echo in my mind right as I was beginning the most terrifying point in my life. I could have been safe that night. I could have been saved at any moment. Brock could have kept his promise, and could have saved me not only from John, but from all of the baggage he left with me. So, where was my protector in the time I needed him most? He was off screwing another woman, that's where.


	7. Chapter 7

-Chapter 7-

My anger for Brock quickly resided, and I returned to the feeling of sympathy I had for him, feeling bad that I was even mad at him in the first place. I hate that I get that way sometimes. When I think of John, I'm always reminded of those feelings of wanting Brock to save me, and the disappointment of him never showing up. It's not like he could have known, though. But still, he should have been there. In fact, it was Brock's fault I was there in the first place. Finding out he had cheated on me was enough to send me over the edge. He was my everything. He was my rock. So feeling like I wasn't good enough for him, and knowing he had left me for someone half my age, definitely made me feel like I was useless. I can't really describe the feeling… All I know is that because of it, I wanted to do something stupid. I needed to. I lost myself, to say the least. And it was all Brock's fault.

Oh, who am I kidding? It was all my fault.

Brock called the next day to apologize again, and dropped by my house later to ask if he could see the kids that weekend, considering he kind of screwed up last time. I agreed, and we small talked for a few minutes. I was really starting to enjoy talking to him without Barbra Jean there. There was less tension. Sure, we still butted heads, but it reminded me of old times, and that always made me smile.

But our carefree moment didn't last for long. The week went on, and turned out even more stressful than usual, despite my good start. I spent my time cleaning up after a house full of kids, babysitting Elizabeth, and stressing over work constantly. At some points, it seemed like too much to handle.

Friday came around, and I was ready for my weekend off. Brock was getting the kids at 6, but Van, Cheyenne, and Elizabeth had already driven over there. The house was quiet without them, as you can imagine. I was on the couch, drifting off to sleep, when I heard the front door slam shut. I jolted up to find Kyra standing in the door way.

"What was that for?" I asked, my voice sleepy.

"I just had a bad day, okay?" She responded, her attitude stinging in her voice.

"Well, that's no reason to slam the door. The glass could break, honey."

"It's not like we can't afford to replace it." There's one thing I won't tolerate, and that's my children being spoiled brats. Kyra has really picked up that habit, especially since the divorce. Before me and Brock split, she was an angel. But now, she's so dark and sad…It kills me to see her like that. I always thought it was just her hormones, but deep down I know there's more to it.

"You better drop the attitude. I understand you had a bad day, but that's no excuse to be a brat." I tried to hide my attitude so she couldn't say she got it from me, even though she probably did.

"I'm not being a brat mom! Can't you understand I've had a hard week?" She hasn't spoken a word about what happened Friday, and I realized she's probably more hurt by it than she's showing, another trait she got from me.

"Kyra, baby, is this about Friday?" My mood softened.

"No mom, it's not." She said quietly, her attitude still visible.

"Listen, just don't be mad at your dad, okay? He's really trying-''

"Don't be mad at dad?!" She let out a laugh that sent daggers through my heart. "Are you serious right now, mom?"

"Yes I'm serious…" I wasn't exactly sure why she was mad.

"Mom, I'm not mad at dad, as much as you'd love for me to be." I couldn't make sense of what she was talking about.

"I would never want you mad at your father-''

"I'm sure you love it that he's going through so much misery, don't you? You're always so mean, and you act like you hate him half the time. I'm sure you feel like he deserves this!" Her voice was rising, and I was speechless. That wasn't right at all. Sure, Brock and I make rude comments back and forth, but they're always followed by a laugh. It's never too serious, and if it is, we don't do it around the kids. Plus, I hate seeing Brock like this. Why would she think otherwise? "Well honestly mom, he doesn't. If anyone does, it's you! If it wasn't for you, dad would have never left us! You just had to go and chase him away! God, I hate you!" She threw her bag and ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her. It was then that I realized how long she's been holding those feelings in. All it took was a bad day, and she just exploded.

I sat on the couch, stunned. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I spend all of my life trying to let my children know how much I love them, and yes, even their father. And then she says that to me? What did I do to deserve this? And how did I 'chase him away'? Those words hurt the worst. Tears began falling down my face as I let them sink in. It was the first time I've cried in ages, and I forgot how relieving it felt. I held my face in the pillow and sobbed. I should have gone up and checked on Kyra, but I know she doesn't want to see me. She hates me. My daughter, who I love more than anything, hates me. Eventually I closed my tear-soaked eyes, and drifted into a deep, guilt-filled sleep. Who knew a 2 hour nap could take me so far away from the world? I wasn't dreaming, wasn't thinking. I was simply...gone. I felt nothing, until a warm, calloused hand cupped the side of my face. I could hear words, but it took me a while to realize what they were saying.

"Reba, wake up. Are you okay?'' I opened my eyes, and my head felt heavy after being brought back to reality so quickly. Brock was sitting on the edge of the couch looking down at me. He quickly moved his hand when I saw him, but continued to stare at me with the same concerned look. "I've been trying to get you up forever. Are you okay?" He repeated.

I sat up slowly, trying to ease the pain in my head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Have you been crying?" The look on his face made me miss the feeling of knowing someone cared about me.

"Just a hard day. I'm okay, really.'' I forced a smile, but Brock knows me better than that.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head right as Jake and Kyra came down the stairs, their packed bags in both of their arms. I stood up to say goodbye, but noticed how the look on Brock's face never left as he watched me walk to them. Man, I can't hide anything from him.

"Bye, baby. Text me before you go to bed." I said, hugging Jake. I knew I'd see him in a couple days, but it still killed me to watch my little man go. I turned to Kyra, who wouldn't make eye contact with me. "You too." I said. I tried to hug her, but she walked right past me and headed out the door.

"I'll be in the car, dad." She said. My heart broke into even more pieces. Brock noticed.

"Jake, buddy, go out with your sister. I need to have a few words with your mother." He said. Jake hugged me one more time, making my troubles seem so much smaller. He's one of the only two men who have that effect on me. _He Gets That From Me _flashed through my mind.

Brock looked at me with a look I hadn't seen in years. That kind of look that says 'pour your heart out to me, I want to help you'. I've been under so much stress recently, and have wanted nothing more than someone to pour my heart out to. Someone to understand. Someone to hold me, and allow me to be weak, if only for a second, and reassure me they'll be strong for me. Just like Brock used to do. But, I couldn't accept that from Brock, and I honestly doubt he was offering it. It's just his eyes…They got me every time. I couldn't control the tears as they started to fall down my face. As soon as Brock saw them, he rushed forward to hug me, but stopped himself, waiting for my approval. I opened my arms, and he continued towards me, holding my sobbing face against his chest.

"Hey, it's alright." He said in that voice that, even after all these years, he only uses for me. It made me cry even harder, and he held me tighter.

"She said she hates me. And I believe her. I don't know what I've done wrong." I was sobbing and my face was in his shirt, so I wasn't surprised when he couldn't understand a word I said. He gently pulled me back.

"Huh?" He asked, looking at me and giggling. Brock giggling? Yeah, that's another thing he only does for me. I repeated myself, and he looked down at me with those damn eyes that made me want to start crying all over again.

"Listen, Reba. She's a teenager. She doesn't mean half of the stuff she says anyway. I know she loves you, and you know she does too. She's going to say a lot of stupid stuff. But as parents, we just gotta learn to ignore her." He smiled. "Why did she say that? Did she say anything else?" I could tell him, but decided not to. It wasn't the time. "Well, that's not too bad. Just give her some time, she'll come around."

"Thank you, Brock. I don't mean to be so dramatic; I've just had a hard week."

"I understand. I'm always here if you need to talk." Why did that catch me off guard and make my heart ache?

"Okay, thank you. Have a good weekend. I'll see you later." I said, walking to the door. Too much time with Brock is not what I need. He smiled, said goodbye, and left.

Gosh, why does he do this to me? During those few minutes of talking to him, I felt my worries melt away. I loved the way it felt to be held, and to be able to just…cry. And let it out. I couldn't imagine doing that with anyone else but Brock. But watching him get in his truck and leave reminds me that things like that shouldn't happen, and even if they do, it won't be often. We're divorced, and he cheated on me. I shouldn't allow myself to feel that way around him, and that scares me. Because, what if I need to feel that way? What if I need that security and peace? I can't have it. So how am I going to get by? Sure, I've been doing it for 6 years now. But each year it gets harder and harder to accept he's gone, and I slip further and further away. I can't even remember the last time I was genuinely happy. But just now, with Brock, I was pretty darn close.

So, I spent a little while sitting on the couch, thinking. My thinking turned to reminiscing, and then my reminiscing turned to crying over how things used to be. My heart ached at all that was going on in my life. My children weren't with me (I know it's just a weekend, but it still doesn't feel right.), Kyra thinks I'm the reason her life is ruined, and the only person who could ever make things alright is gone. My crying turned into drinking. Not heavy drinking, but just enough to ease the pain a little.

I was sitting alone in my living room, a total mess, when my phone rang. It was Barbara. We had been friends since I first came to the music business. Getting advice from someone as big as Barbara Mandrell at the time really helped me a lot. Since then we've grown close enough to be sisters. She knows everything about everyone in the industry, and always tells me the secrets no one else is supposed to know. I debated answering, but finally decided to.

"Hello?"

"Hey Reba! How are you doing?" I could tell by the tone in her voice that she needed to tell me something.

"Uh, I'm hanging in there. What's up?"

"Well, I've heard some news. I'm not sure if you want to hear it, though."

"Now you have to tell me, Barbara."

"Okay. Reba, don't get upset or anything, but I've heard some rumors that your label is thinking about dropping you. They have some new, young, stupid acts to take your place. I honestly think its ridicules." She couldn't be serious.

"Where did you hear that?" My voice was shaky, half because of my fear and half because of the alcohol.

"I've heard it everywhere, Reba. I'm surprised no one has told you. You know how news spreads like wildfire in this business." There's no way. After all I've done for that label? They can't just 'drop me' like that! Whatever happened to loyalty? Oh wait, I forgot. There's no loyalty in this business. "Reba, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll make some phone calls tomorrow and find out if it's true, and if not, who's saying it is."

Barbara laughed. "I knew you'd get to the bottom of it, Red! But hey, me and Ken have date night with the girls tonight, so I've got to go. Call me if you need anything, okay? And don't let those rumors get to you. I'm sure that's all they are. I love you!" Oh great. Now her and all of our friends are having 'date night'. They've stopped asking me to join them after years of "I don't have a date." But as long as they're having fun, I'll be okay.

"Love you too." I mumbled. I hung up, threw my phone to the other end of the couch, and watched as my world fell apart. I can't lose this job. I'm sure I could find another label, but would I want to? I've spent my whole career with one label. I can't just move on! But I wasn't going to cry again. Even though Kyra's pain echoed in my ears; and even though Brock's touched lingered on my cheek; and even though all of my friends were out having a good time, and I was alone at home drinking.

And then, like a shark approaching in murky water, those feelings I felt 6 years ago came back to me. Strong enough to know they're there, hidden enough to not know they're intentions, dangerous enough to know to swim the other way, but tempting enough to get a closer look. My thoughts came together, ignited by the wine settling in my stomach. Why sit here sad, confused, and helpless when I could be somewhere else? Somewhere where all of my feelings wash away, and are replaced by a rush of adrenaline strong enough to knock me off my feet? Why sit here alone, when I could be with someone who makes me feel like I'm the only girl in the world, if only for the night?

_Reba, don't do it. _I picked up my phone. _Reba stop it, you're better than this._ I dialed the number. _It's not too late to turn back, just hang up! _I heard his voice after the 3rd ring. _Don't speak, Reba. Run while you can. _

"Hey, John. Long time no see." _You've gone too far; no turning back now._


	8. Chapter 8

***Hey y'all! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated- I've been super busy! But I promise I'll be updating a lot more now! Please wrire a review, and thank you for reading! Don't forget to follow me on twitter! Thanks, babes! ***

-Chapter 8-

When he first answered, there was a bunch of loud noises in the background, but it suddenly got silent, and I could tell he had walked into another room. When John responded, he sounded just the same as he did 6 years ago, though his voice was a little slower, and surprised to hear me.

"Little Red, is that you? Damn it's been awhile."

"Yeah, it has. How have you been?" It seemed so weird talking casually with John. We've never had that kind of 'how are you', 'what have you been up to' relationship.

"Uh, same as always I guess." He felt obligated to ask in return. "How about you?" Hearing his voice brought back all of our old memories (well...the 'good ones' at least) and gave me that adrenaline-pumping feeling that made my breath catch in my throat.

"Good. Better, I mean." Was all I could say.

There was a silence, then I heard him let out that evil, yet somehow beautiful, chuckle I'd heard a thousand times. "Well this is awkward. I guess you finally got my text?"

"Uh..yeah. Haha, sorry. I've just been so busy."

"I thought so. Made any number one hits lately?"

"Just a few." I giggled, while finding it weird how casual we were being. We were talking as if we'd been talking forever, and as if everything that went on between us never happened, though part of me deep down couldn't stop thinking about it. But of course, I knew John wasn't even thinking about it. Pushing girls around and making them do things they don't want to do seems like a natural thing to him. And for some reason I needed to be around someone like that. Maybe being with someone who never felt guilty about anything would rub off on me. I was so sick of feeling guilty, anyways.

He cleared his throat. "So, I text you to tell you that I was throwing a party and was wonderin' if you'd want to come by." It was quiet for a few seconds, and I considered apologizing for not responding, but he spoke again before I could. "Actually, I'm having another one tonight. Any chance you'd want to swing by?" His seductive drawl got deeper. "We need to catch up."

I giggled like a school girl. How did he bring this part out of me? "Yes we do. I'll be there in an hour."

"That's my girl. I knew you'd come around." That scared me. I'm not 'coming around'. And I'm not 'his girl'. It's just been a hard week, and I'm awful lonely. _I just want some fun. There is nothing wrong with that,_ I reminded myself. We said goodbye, and I ran upstairs to change.

It was hard deciding what to wear. I didn't want to dress too sleazy, but it was a party at John's; I would stand out like a sore thumb if I dressed in my usual motherly attire. I finally decided on a tight T-Shirt showing a small amount of cleavage, and tight jeans that hugged on my hips, which I noticed were getting larger with age. I threw on my boots, added more make up, and brushed through my hair. I didn't feel as tipsy as before, but still wondered if I'd be safe driving, or if I should have John pick me up. Haha, who am I kidding? John wouldn't pick me up. I locked the house, got in the car, and started the 45 minute trip to John's.

On the way, I had plenty of time to think logically, and talk myself out of going. But instead, I blared the radio as loud as it would go, and drowned out all of my thoughts. Tonight was _my_ night. I wasn't going to worry about Brock or my career or my kids. For once, I'm just going to focus on making _me_ happy.

The 45 minutes went quicker than expected, and I was surprised that I remembered exactly how to get to his cabin in the middle of no where. I heard music blaring from halfway down the road, and as I searched for a place to park in the grass, I saw a man run out of the house and throw up off of the wrap-around porch. But somehow, I really didn't notice. I was too busy worrying about seeing John for the first time. My buzz was wearing off and a little bit of sense was coming back. Not enough to stop me, but enough to make me nervous. I noticed my hands were shaking as I walked up the rocky path leading to the steps to his house. The man who was throwing up had just finished, and quickly shot up when he saw me.

"Hey, you're Reba Mc-" He turned around and began throwing up again. I felt obligated to go pat his back or something, but decided to just keep walking.

I opened the front door cautiously, and found people everywhere-either socializing, making a drink, or dancing like an idiot. Several people stopped when they saw me, and a few even ran up and took a quick picture. I smiled, and tried to talk to as many people as I could, though it was hard to make conversation with people drunk off their feet.

I finally got a break, and walked into the kitchen to grab a beer. Although a lot of people were giving me attention, I felt so alone-I didn't truly know anyone here. I wanted to find John, but I couldn't see him anywhere.

When I went to the cooler, a man reached in front of me, grabbed a Miller Lite, and handed it to me with a smile.

"Thank you." I said, taking the drink from him.

"Anytime, sweetie. Are you here with someone?"

"Well, actually, I'm here to see John. Do you know where I could find him?"

"Oh." He seemed disappointed. "He should be around here somewhere. I would say he probably took some girl up to his room, but he knew you were coming tonight, and he was talking about waiting just for you." He said with a wink. "Maybe go check around the hallway. He's usually around there." John knew I was coming? And he was 'waiting just for me'? I guess I knew that was probably what was expected if I showed up here, but I haven't really processed it. Did I want to go that far? No, I didn't. At least I didn't think I did.

I walked up the hallway on the first floor, and then traveled upstairs. Besides a few people making out against the wall, I didn't see anything to take notice of. But I did realize something- John's parties always made me feel like a teenager again. John Callahan's party house was the place to go for people in their 30s and 40s who are looking for a good time, and most of the time, looking for trouble. At first I was shocked when I saw people snorting two long lines of a powdery substance, but by the 3rd time I saw it, it didn't seem out of place. I just reminded myself the whole 'Just Say No' technique and kept walking.

After about half an hour of not finding him, my head started spinning and I was feeling more alone than before. I didn't belong here... At least not without John by my side. I tried to find a bathroom so I could be alone, but all of them were taken. I walked up to John's room, slowly opened the door, and was surprised to find it empty. I could smell his familiar cologne as I walked into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. I actually didn't look as bad (or as sweaty) as I thought I would. My hair was a little wild, but I smoothed it down. While looking at myself, I was overwhelmed with sadness. I decided on a limb to come all the way back to this place, and now he's not even here. I leaned down on the counter and put my face in my folded arms, trying to hold back tears. I stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to steady my breathing and my thoughts, until I felt two warm hands grab onto my waist from behind. I felt someone bend over me, surrounding my body with theirs, and bringing their face close to mine. I felt hot, familiar, alcohol scented breath on my ear.

"You okay, Little Red?" John's voice stung my ears, and I couldn't move. I took a deep breath, ignoring his body tight against mine and focusing on controlling my now shaking body. It didn't help me any when his hands slid up my sides, going slowly by the sides of my breasts, and up my arms, which were still folded together under my face. He tugged on my elbows, signaling for me to get up. I slowly rose up, and looked into the mirror to see him behind me. His face had aged, but he was still breath-takingly beautiful. His jawline and cheek bones worked perfectly together, making a perfectly built face. His hair was dark and his eyes were green enough to make your knees goes weak. His lips were...perfect. And the way he was smiling at me made me feel a way I hadn't felt in ages. I turned around to face him, finding him even more beautiful up close.

"Yeah, I-I'm fine." Was all I could choke out. I couldn't look into his eyes, so I looked at the ground. He lifted my face with his finger.

"Good. Wanna go downstairs for awhile?" I smiled and followed him as he led the way down the staircase.

I forgot how amazing it felt to be John Callahan's girl at John Callahan's party. It seemed that everywhere we went, all eyes were on us. Yes, several were envious stares from girls who looked like they could kill me, but it was still exciting. The hours went quickly with him, and with each one we grew closer and closer. We also drank more and more. It felt so good to let loose, and just have a good time. John lit a few cigarettes, and even talked me into a few puffs, just like before.

Eventually, after walking around socializing all night, I sat on the couch, completely exhausted. John came and sat next to me as people gathered around, all talking about a million different things at once.

A girl across from us, Candice, who even 6 years ago had a thing for John, looked like she was going to blow up when John put his hand on my leg. I felt like I was going to blow up too. My whole leg, and other parts, heated at his touch, and I forgot how much he could make me want him. He looked down at me, and I smiled a seductive smile before I realized what I was doing. I guess he took that as in initiation, because he leaned down and kissed me. Right in front of everyone! I heard a few whoops and hollers, but I was too lost in his lips to notice. I parted mine, and quickly accepted him in, totally forgetting about my surroundings. Before long, we were full-blown making out, and John pulled off just enough to say, "Party's over. Y'all go home. It's 3 a.m. and I need my privacy." He leaned back in for more, but I pushed him off softly and told him I needed to check my phone. He rolled his eyes and set back against the seat as I went into the kitchen to find my purse. Did he say it was 3? How long had it been since I'd stayed up this late? Checking my phone, I realized I had missed a call from Cheyenne, and there was a goodnight text from Jake, which ripped my heart out. What was I doing here? I don't belong here. I wanted to cry as I thought of what their night must have been like. Brock probably rented a movie, and the kids and him probably all watched it together. While I was here. With John.

I walked back into the living room slowly, noticing how quiet it was. It sent shivers through my body. Everyone had left in the few minutes I was gone, and John was sitting alone on the couch. He turned around and saw the look on my face.

"What's wrong?" He asked in an I-Don't-Really-Care type of voice.

"I just didn't realize how late it was getting. I probably need to head home." I said, holding my hands in front of me.

"You need to head home? Hun, it's 3 a.m. and you're wasted. You're not going anywhere." He said dryly, putting emphasis on the 'not going anywhere' part. I felt the room grow smaller as fear crept into my body. "Now come back over here- I'm not done with you." I should have known what I was getting myself into. Actually, I did know. Especially now. I knew what was coming next, only I was so scared of what would happen if I didn't go to him. So, I slowly walked back towards the couch, and sank next to him. He pulled me into him, and pressed his mouth hard against mine, not hesitating to use his tongue. His hands traveled up and down my back a few times, before finally going down and sneaking back up under my shirt. I felt the warmth his hands left stinging my bare skin. He came to my bra, and began to unhook it, as I jerked back.

"Listen, I really need to go home." I said quickly while I had the courage to. His face dropped, and his eyes darkened as he intensely stared at me.

"So, you're still a tease, huh?" He asked in a voice that made me cringe.

"I never said I'd sleep with you. I just came to see you. I didn't know anything more was required from me." I stated, avoiding his eyes. With that statement, he grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. He didn't respond, but instead began kissing me again, still holding onto my arms tight enough to paralyze me. He pushed me down on the couch and found his way on top of me, his mouth never leaving mine. But, as much as I hate to admit it, a small part of me was enjoying him- enjoying this. Why couldn't I spend the night with him? What was stopping me from it? I mumbled against his mouth, making him pull back.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry." _Why are you apologizing to him, Reba? _The responsible, mature part of me asked. But the other part of me, the part John Callahan created and owned, was powerful enough at the moment to shut her out for the rest of the night, just like she had years ago.

"It's okay, baby." He said, releasing his grip and stroking my face. "Just don't do it again, okay? You know that's not fair to me." He could take any situation and make himself look like the victim. But honestly, I didn't care. He pulled me off of the couch, and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me upstairs. I felt his hardness between my flexed legs, and began moving up and down, causing a moan to escaped each of our lips. Before even reaching his room, he pushed my back against the wall and pushed his body into mine, making my close my legs tighter and moan louder.

"Hurry. Your room. Now." Was all I could get out between our kisses. He carried me into his room and threw me on the bed. I immediately began taking off my pants, but he stopped me midway through and ripped them off himself, reminding me of our first time together. I scooted to the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his pants, allowing him to pull them down. I spent the next few minutes doing something I hadn't done in a long, long time. I'm not sure why, but at the moment it seemed like the best idea ever. A few minutes into it, however, I felt like I should use mouthwash.

Afterwards, he ripped off the rest of my clothes, and I gave myself up to him as he sunk into my body. Before long, my back was arching and I was moaning his name as he whispered dirty words into my ear.

After we had each had our moments, we laid together, out of breath, without speaking. I snuggled up against his body, and draped one leg over him. Of course, John didn't embrace me, but I didn't need him to. Him just laying there was enough.

We continued for a while after that, and the sun was coming up when I finally closed my eyes to sleep. John was already passed out by the time I was dozing off, and my heart warmed when he rolled over and stretched his arm across me. I scooted close to his body, loving the feeling of at least coming close to being held. My eyes drifted shut, and I found myself lost in a deep, dark sleep. Somewhere in the background of my dream I heard a voice saying "You've made a mistake, Reba." But of course, like always, I didn't listen to it. Eventually, I knew I'd pay for it. But right now, I was living for the moment. And the moment for me was sleeping in John Callahan's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

-Chapter 9-

I awoke the next morning with a strong pounding in my head. I lay there for a minute with my eyes shut, preparing myself to walk downstairs into the kitchen and get some Tylenol. But when I opened my eyes, I was shocked to find I wasn't in my familiar room. There were white, hard sheets underneath me, instead of my usual plush red ones. On the nightstand beside me, I saw an ash tray, old beer bottles, and a few crumbled up newspapers. I propped myself on my elbow, looking around the room and trying to make sense of where I was. That's when I heard a low, deep groan beside me. Holding my breath, I slowly looked over and saw John sprawled out next to me, the covers pulled down enough to expose his built, bare, hairy chest. I let out a quick gasp, and then jumped out of bed. I guess he heard me, because as soon as my feet touched the ground, he squinted his face and rubbed his hand across his jaw line, and then slowly opened his eyes. I stood by the bed like a dear in highlights, scared to move. He sat up, and then turned to face me. When he saw me, he looked me up and down. A sleepy smirk came across his face, and he let out a whistle.

I didn't understand why he did that, until I looked down and realized I was completely naked. I quickly jerked a blanket off the end of the bed, and used it to cover my body. I stood there in shock with my jaw dropped.

"I forgot how amazing you were, Little Red." At the moment, he sounded like the devil.

"Uh…" It was all I could do to mumble. My head was hurting worse than before, and last night's events quickly came back to my mind. My palms started sweating and my breathing got quicker as I realized what I had done. Meanwhile, John hadn't taken his eyes off me. He got out of bed, showing no shame in his naked body. I tried not to look.

"Why are you acting so weird?" He asked as he put on some boxers (Thank God).

"What did we do last night?" As if I didn't know. But honestly, it was all I could think to ask. My throat was dry and my words came out raspy. John walked towards me.

"You don't remember? Here, let me remind you." He said as he began to pull the blanket off of me.

"No!" I quickly jerked back, resisting his urging to expose myself. His face grew stern, and I became even more scared than before as he stared at me with the eyes I had tried so hard to forget. I knew I had to save myself. "Just not now, okay honey? Can we have some breakfast first?"

"It's one o'clock." He said, not moving his penetrating eyes from mine. I had no idea it was already afternoon!

Repeating last night's events was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. I just needed to buy some time to think of an excuse to leave "Uh, lunch then? I'm super hungry."

He stared at me harshly for a few seconds, and I didn't breathe again until he looked away and started walking out of the room. "Fine." He trudged out of the room and down the stairs as I stood in the same position I had been in since I first sprung out of bed.

Finally, I snapped out of my trance and looked for my clothes, which were scattered across the room. I put them on and then went to the bathroom to wash my face and run my fingers through my tangled hair. Then, I checked my phone on the nightstand to find 3 missed calls from Cheyenne, 2 from Brock, and 36 from Barbra Jean. I ignored her, and then quickly called Cheyenne back. She didn't answer, so I sat down on the bed and stared at my phone. My heart throbbed as I realized she could have needed me, and I wasn't there. Knowing Cheyenne, she was probably just calling to ask how to boil water. But still…I should have been there to answer her. The guilt was pounding in my body, but just like everything else, I shoved it out of the way and tried to forget about it. I cautiously shut the door, and then called back Brock, who answered after the third ring.

"Reba?" He sounded relieved that I called back.

"Hey. Did you call?" I tried to act as causal as I could so he wouldn't suspect anything.

"Yeah I called you last night and this morning. Jake left his homework at the house, so I drove him by but you weren't there," I cringed when he called it 'the house', not 'your house'. "It was pretty late, too. I was just making sure you're okay."

"Yes, I'm fine. I just went out on date night with the girls." I forced a laugh at the irony.

"Oh you did?" He asked suspiciously. "Because Barbara called me last night to make sure you were okay. She said she's worried about you… Since you haven't been going out with them lately." Dammit, Barbara. My throat closed up as I tried to think of an excuse. It was silent for a few minutes, and just as I was about to speak, Brock spoke again. "Barbara never calls me. Actually, she kind of hates my guts. So, it's obvious she's real worried about you." It was quiet again. "I'm worried about you too, Reba." This time, the reason I wasn't responding wasn't because of my dry throat or my nervousness. I wasn't responding because I was trying to hold back my tears. The gentle caring in his voice seemed so relieving after last night.

"I'm fine, Brock." That was all I could get out. I'm sure he could tell by my voice that I didn't want to talk about it, so he tried to sound causal again.

"Cheyenne and B.J. wanted to come by and show you some new clothes they bought for Elizabeth. Is it okay if we swing by real quick?" Great. Just great.

"Um, I'm not home now. I'll call you as soon as I can."

Our conversation was again filled with that stupid, eerie silence that was killing me. Finally, Brock asked the question I knew he had wanted to ask in the first place. "Reba, where were you last night? And where are you now?" His voice had a mixture of sadness and intense seriousness that gave me goose bumps. My only response was to be my normal, moody, ex-wife self. If I didn't, I knew there was no way I'd be able to hold back my tears.

"That is none of your business, Brock." I said matter-of-factly.

"Reba-"

"Brock." I said sternly. "It's none of your business."

He sighed. "Okay, fine. I guess I'll just tell the kids we'll drop by later. But Reba, please just be safe-" That was all I heard. John busted the door open. The bang was loud enough to cause Brock to stop mid-sentence.

"I've been waiting down there for 10 minutes!" John yelled. "Who the hell are you talking to?"

"I gotta go." I slurred to Brock as I quickly hung up. "It was just the kids. I was making sure they were alright." I spoke to John calmly.

"I heard you say Brock." He stated in a flat voice, moving closer to me.

"I know. I had to call his phone to talk to them." I stuttered as he approached me. He stood by the bed, as I sat on the edge, and stared down at me. Just then, Brock began calling back. I quickly declined his call and turned off my volume. I looked back up at him, and he continued to stare with anger and rage burning in his eyes. It was quiet as I tried to avoid eye-contact with him, and my voice was shaky when I finally spoke. "I'm sorry. You have nothing to be worried about." I purred as I ran a finger down his lower stomach, finally meeting his eyes. Now, being seductive with him literally made me nauseous. But I knew it was my only option.

He continued to stare for a second, and then his jaw loosened and his fist unclenched. "Okay. Come eat. I made you a sandwich." He mumbled. He walked downstairs, and I followed him with shaky legs.

Lunch was awkward, to say the least. I wasn't hungry, but tried to eat as much as I could since he made it for me. The tension from mine and Brock's phone call lingered in the air, and we hardly spoke the whole time. But every few minutes, I would look up and find him staring at me. I couldn't tell if he was angry, or extremely turned on. Either way, it scared me.

After several minutes of thinking of an excuse, I finally spoke. "So, Cheyenne and Van have class today, and Brock is taking Jake and Kyra shopping, so I need to watch Elizabeth. I should probably head home pretty soon."

It was quiet for a few seconds, but I didn't dare look up.

"Can't his little mistress watch her?" Why must he call her that?

"No, she's going shopping with them. They can't take Elizabeth though, because she's never been a very cooperative shopper." I tried to laugh, but I'm sure John could tell how fake it was. It was silent for an even longer period this time.

"I really don't want you to leave." He said rather forcefully, hitting his hand against the table.

"I don't want to go either." _Lies, lies, lies._ "But I have to." I said in a slow, quiet voice, trying to sound as if I didn't want to leave as badly as I did. John didn't respond, but got up to put away his plate. He grabbed mine, with over half a sandwich left on it, and then walked to the sink. He placed the dishes down, and then walked around the counter to lean against the edge. He stared at me.

"What time will you be back?" What time will I be back? I was expected to come back? Where did this come from?

"Well, I'm not sure. They'll probably be out pretty late," I drug out the end of my sentence, hoping he'd get the hint. Of course, he didn't.

"I want to see you tonight." He stated. It sounded more like a demand, and I knew from experience it was one I couldn't turn away from.

"Okay." I felt like I had just been sentenced to life in prison. I grabbed my purse, and slowly walked towards the door.

"Wait." He stopped me. I turned to face him, and he came close to me. I smelt the luring, dangerous scent of his body, and felt the seductive, deadly heat on his breath. He clinched my upper arms, and squeezed tightly as he leaned his mouth towards my ear. "I mean it." He breathed. He lightly kissed the base of my ear with a sincerity that contradicted everything he was doing. I expected him to let me go, but he kept his grip as he slowly buried his face into my neck, taking a deep breath of me. Then, softly, he kissed my neck, causing me to shiver. He let his tongue move across my skin for a quick second before pulling back and staring at me again. "Understand?"

"Yes." He let go. I grabbed my purse and walked on shaky legs out to my car, which was still parked pretty far away.

On the way to the car, I felt my eyes grow heavy and my vision cloud up as tears began to form. Why did he do this to me? He could make my life complete misery, but yet do it so sweetly, to where all I wanted was more of it. But, it was then that I realized that I had no clue what it felt like to be in a true relationship. Yes, I've had a few since my divorce, but nothing serious. In 6 years, I had forgotten what it felt like to feel these amazing, spontaneous feelings, but with someone you love. I forgot what it was like to do things for each other out of love and admiration, not horniness and loneliness. A large part of me yearned to feel that way; to be able to allow myself to feel great, and not have any sort of regrets like the ones that were weighing down on me. I should feel free and happy, not bounded and scared.

Scared. That was something I hadn't felt in a long time, and definitely something I _didn't _miss. I had always told myself I would never, ever be scared of a man. But John was different. I knew just what he was capable of. Feeling this brought a whole new thought to my heavy mind- security. How long has it been since I've actually felt safe? Secure? How long has it been since I didn't have to constantly worry about protecting myself? Realizing so much at once made the tears flow harder as I opened my car door and sat in the seat, leaning my head against the steering wheel to sob.

Last night I was off at John's acting like an idiot, and no one was there to stop me. That scares me. All I want is someone who cares for _me_, not just my body. No, actually, I don't want, I need it. I need that feeling of knowing that someone notices when I'm not okay, and actually cares that I'm not around.

I tried to clear my head as I started my car. With shaky hands and blurry eyes, I pulled out my phone. I looked at the screen to find 18 missed calls from Brock.


	10. Chapter 10

***Thanks again for the reads and reviews! It means SO much to me! This is one of my favorite chapters, so I hope y'all enjoy it! Lots of emotion. Also, don't forget to follow me on twitter! ThsBabeNmedReba, or just type in Reba Fanfiction! Thanks, babes! :) ***

-Chapter 10-

I put down my phone, and decided not to call Brock back. I know I should have, but I was sobbing so hard it would only concern him more. I didn't want that, right? Well, for the most part. I don't need him worrying about me, and I can do just fine on my own. I know that. It's just… A small, small part of me is so broken and so fragile that all I want to do is pour my heart out to him and allow him to hold me again.

I was speeding down the road with tears filling up my eyes when I realized what I was allowing myself to think. _Hold me again?_ No. No, no. I don't want that. Not from him. And even if I did, I wasn't allowed to think about it. That kind of thinking is dangerous for a woman. But with as dangerous as I'd been the night before, it almost seemed natural.

I pulled into the house and my heart stung at the familiarity and the comfort of my home. I saw Brock's truck, and not too far behind Barbra Jean's car. But instead of feeling anxiety knowing what I was about to face, I was comforted. Van's football in the front yard, Barbra Jean's car parked 3 feet off of the drive way, and Elizabeth's toys scattered across the yard brought back comfort that I thought wasn't possible to feel after waking up with John.

I walked in the house, and before I could take a breath in my living room, all of it was knocked out of me by a big blonde monster.

"Reba, there you are! Where were you? Oh gosh I missed you my crazy redhead!" She screamed in my ear. She held me so tight I couldn't breathe until I pushed her off of me.

"Barbra Jean, I was just gone one night." I stated, annoyed.

"Yeah, I know. But you? Out on a Friday night? _All night long?" _She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I really don't want to talk about it." I could tell she was surprised when I didn't come up with some witty comeback. Her face softened, and for the first time she looked me up and down. She looked like she had seen a ghost instead.

"Wait… You're okay. Right?" She sounded like a child.

"Yes." Was all I could say. I pushed past her to find Cheyenne on the couch staring up at me. "Hi honey! I'm ready to see those clothes!" I tried to sound excited. But when Cheyenne continued to stare at me, with a look close to fear in her eyes, and when Barbra Jean walked over staring at me the same way, I could tell they didn't buy it.

It was one thing if Brock had an idea about John, but there was no way I was going to let Cheyenne know. I'm her mother, and I'm supposed to be her rock. If she knew how weak I had been, even for just a night, it could crush her. So, I forced a smile. "What's wrong you guys? You wanted me to see the clothes, right? Well, I'm here!" I threw my arms up in the air.

"You look awful, mom." Cheyenne almost whispered. I didn't know what she was talking about until I thought about the drinking last night and the sobbing this morning. I'm sure I looked like a hammered mess. But how could I explain that to them? The bloodshot eyes, the pale face, the mascara smeared down my cheeks? Right as I was thinking of an excuse, the silence of the room was filled with the sound of boots walking out of the kitchen. We all turned to see Brock walking in the living room. As soon as he saw me, his jaw dropped and he rushed towards us.

"I told you to tell me as soon as she got here!" He practically yelled at Barbra Jean, which caught me off guard. "Reba, where have you-" He stopped mid-sentence and looked down at Cheyenne. I followed his gaze to find her looking up at me with concern.

"What's going on?" She quickly stood up from the couch. "Mom, are you alright? What happened to you?" I shot a frantic look to Brock, who always knew I never wanted the kids worrying about me, no matter the circumstances. My throat went dry and I couldn't speak. Thank God Brock noticed.

"Everything is alright, honey. I'm just going to talk to your mom in the kitchen for a second." Brock led the way out of the room and I automatically followed. I turned over my shoulder and saw that Cheyenne's face looked more relaxed than before. But then, I looked to Barbra Jean. One look at her face and I felt as if she knew everything. The fear and concern she expressed made me ache, and somehow, if only for a second, made me gain a lot of respect for her.

I followed Brock as he walked to the fridge, a safe distance from Barbra Jean and Cheyenne. I was focusing on his boots and trying to see straight when he stopped and turned around, making me run into him. I pulled back, even more distraught than before, and stumbled a second before he grabbed my hand to steady me. When I found my balance, I stared at the ground, working up the courage to look at him. I felt like a kid again. Finally, I slowly looked up at him, and silently thanked God for the sight I saw.

I saw my Brock. Not the emotionless, manly Brock everyone else saw. Not the cheating, bone-headed Brock I've been seeing the last 6 years. No, I saw the Brock that I spent the majority of my life in love with. His blue eyes looked down at me with such sincerity and concern it made my knees weak. The crows-feet around his eyes gave them a gentle, caring look. I was reminded of all the times I've seen him like that. I remembered all the times I've broken down in his arms, and allowed myself to completely lose it. I would look up, and see those eyes staring down at me, and everything would be okay again. I spent my life being strong for other people, and he was the only person I could be weak with. Knowing that is probably what made me start hysterically sobbing the way I did. I tried to hold back my tears, but they came so quickly I could hardly think. Brock pulled me close to him, and I tried to muffle my sobs so Cheyenne and Barbra Jean wouldn't hear me.

"Shhh, it's okay." He coaxed while rubbing my hair with his calloused hand. It's funny, this whole time those were the only words we had shared. And yet, I felt more comfortable with him than I had ever felt with anyone else.

Cheyenne and B.J. must had gone upstairs or left, because as much as I tried to hold it in, gasps escaped my mouth and I couldn't force myself to cry silently. Had one of them heard me, they would have come running in a second.

Finally, when I could collect myself again, I pulled back from Brock's white shirt to see black stains where my face had been buried. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Don't worry about it." He said, continuing to look at me with those eyes that almost made me lose it all over again. But I had let out what I needed to, and I knew I could control myself now. We stood in the kitchen quietly for a few seconds. The silence was so overwhelming I knew Cheyenne and B.J. must have left the house all together. There's no way those two could be that quiet.

I stared down at my feet. Brock was expecting me to talk, but I'm sure he knew from the look on my face that I wasn't going to be the first to speak. So finally, he drew a deep breath.

"Reba, what's going on?" He asked in a gentle voice.

"I'm okay." Was all I could think to say.

"No you're not. Please… Please talk to me." His voice cracked. I knew Brock wasn't crying, so I didn't bother to look up to check. But still, his voice showed just how much he cared.

"I don't want to." He knew my stubbornness, so I could tell he wasn't shocked that I wasn't cooperating. It was quiet for a while, and I finally looked up at him.

He looked into my eyes for a second, and then closed his eyes tightly. "Who was that man?" He asked, and then looked down keeping his eyes shut. I could tell he knew he needed to ask, but didn't want to hear the answer.

"Brock, I really don't want to talk-"

"Reba, please." He looked at me. "I know you're not okay. Who was he?" He asked, regaining his composure. He straightened his back and looked down at me. "Please talk to me. Please."

"Brock I can't! I don't want to. I can't." Why wasn't I telling him? Because I didn't want to? Or because I couldn't? I said both, but which did I mean?

"You know you can trust me." He grabbed my arms, right where John had squeezed me earlier. I gasped in pain, and jumped back, shocked at how bad it hurt. Brock jumped back as well. "What did I do?" He asked in shock. It wasn't until I looked at the ground fighting back tears that he realized he hadn't done anything. It had already been done. Brock took a step forward, and I felt as if my feet were stuck in cement. I stood holding my arms across my chest as he lifted my left sleeve slightly. I heard his breath catch in his throat, and I knew I had bruised. I remained like a statue, staring at the ground and trying not to shake, as he gently stoked my arm with his free hand. He pulled back, and then spoke in a stern, yet tender voice. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Don't you lie to me." I didn't respond. I was still in the same position as before. "Reba, did he," He stopped, trying to steady the anger I could hear rising in his voice. "What did he do to you?" Brock was shaking, yet trying to be gentle with me.

_What did he do to you? _The question rung in my ears, and brought back a whiskey blurred memory I had tried so hard to forget.

It was after our third night together. That was all me and John had- Nights. We had gotten into an argument, and before I knew it he was throwing things and cursing in my face. I knew he was a dangerous man, but that was the first time I had actually seen it. It was too much for me, and actually scared me. I tried to leave, but he told me I couldn't. So, I waited until he calmed down, and told him we were out of beer, which we actually were. I told him I'd be right back, and he let me go. But instead of going to the beer store, I went home and flopped down on the couch. About an hour had past, and I actually thought I was off the hook. But as I was sinking into the comfort of my surroundings, the phone rang.

"Where are you?" I didn't even have a chance to say hello before his slurred, evil voice came on the line.

"I'm at home." I snapped back.

"Why the hell are you there? You said you were getting beer!" He was screaming.

"I'm not going to let you treat me like that." I stated calmly.

"Like what? Like you deserve to be treated?" His voice was raspy and mean.

"I don't _deserve_ to be treated like that, you asshole. Now leave me alone." I hung up the phone, and ignored the rest of his calls, thinking I had solved the problem.

Then, about 40 minutes later, I heard a hard bang at my door. _Surely not… _I thought as I stood up on shaky legs and walked to the door. looked through the peep-hole to see John. I began to sweat as my heart beat like a drum.

"Open up, darling. I'm sorry, okay? I just want to make things better." Back then, I couldn't have known better. "I promise I'll make it up to you." It did sound awful tempting at the time.

I slowly opened the door and let him in. He smiled, and kissed me on the top of my head as he walked past me.

"Nice place." He noted.

"Thank you." I said dryly, trying to show how hurt I still was. I fumbled for a second with the lock, which had been sticking lately, when I felt John walk up behind me. I thought he was going to do his usual seductive-hug-from-behind, so I didn't think twice about it. He bent down, wrapped his strong arms around my waist, a little too tight, and propped his head on my shoulder.

"I have a question." He whispered in my ear, squeezing a little tighter.

"Yes?"

"Where did you tell me you were going?"

I swallowed hard, not sure what he was doing. "To get beer?" I mumbled.

He chuckled. "Then why are you here?" He started progressively squeezing tighter, causing me more and more pain with each second. I tried to wiggle away from him, but was paralyzed by his strong grip.

"John, let go!" He jerked me around to face him, causing my whole body to shake. He grabbed under my arms and pulled me up in the air. I was screaming, trying to get him to let go, when he threw me down on the couch.

The couch wasn't so soft when my body was slung down on it, and it sent shocks of pain into my back. The pain made it unable for me to move, and when I finally could, John sat down on the space next to where I was lying. He leaned over me and used his left arm to push my chest down, and his right arm to cover my mouth. I bit down hard on his hand, and he cursed at me and slapped me immediately across my face. My face stung, and I tried to scream, but the pressure on my chest made it impossible.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. There's no use getting all worked up." I hated the calmness in his voice as I twisted and turned underneath his grasp trying to escape. "Stop." He said more sternly. When that didn't work, and I continued to kick and moan, he slapped me even harder, making me reside. "No more." He commanded. I looked up at him with fear in my tear rimmed eyes. "Are your kids here?" He asked. I didn't answer, simply because thinking of them made me long to be with them, especially since they were at their dads. It turned out to be a good thing that they weren't there, because he didn't ask again when I remained silent. Instead, he moved his heavy hand slowly off of my mouth and drug it down my neck, stopping at my breast. He used both of his hands to cup them, and then squeezed hard enough to make my whimper.

And from that moment on, I was defenseless against him as he had his way with me on the couch. I cried and begged him to stop, but he acted as if he didn't hear me. When he was done, he raised his body over mine and looked into my eyes.

"You're a sonofabitch." I spit at him. He pulled me up from the couch and flung me on to the floor like I was a piece of paper. He stood up and kicked me hard in the stomach. I leaned over and tried not to vomit.

"Don't you act like I'm the bad guy. You little whore." He put his clothes on, and I grabbed a blanket off of the chair to wrap myself up in. I silently watched him as he put his wallet in his pocket and fixed his collar. Then he leaned down to where I was on the floor.

He stroked my bare shoulder, and I jerked back from his touch. He grabbed my hair, and yanked so hard it brought my whole head back. He looked at me, and his eyes told me not to do that again. There was a knot in my throat as I forced myself to relax while he stroked my shoulder again. Then, he leaned down and softly kissed my delicate skin.

"Don't think you can just get away from me like that." He whispered. And then, he walked out the door, leaving me naked and scared on the floor.

"Did he hurt you Reba?" Brock's voice interrupted my thoughts as I came back to reality.

"No, he didn't. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be."

"Reba-"

"Brock! I didn't stop you when you left. Don't you dare stop me." I said through clinched teeth and blurry eyes. His arms fell to his sides as he stared at me. And then I walked back out to the car, finally realizing what I had done. B.J's Car was gone, so I knew her and Cheyenne probably went somewhere.

In a daze, I started my car and headed back to John's house, clutching the wheel so hard my knuckles were white.


	11. Chapter 11

*** So, y'all are gonna kill me.

I know it's hard to see Reba not jumping into Brock's arms, but as you read this chapter, try to remember their relationship. He cheated on her, so of course Reba is verryy guarded around him. The last thing she wants is old feelings to return. But I have a plan for this story, and there's a reason behind everything I'm doing! Keep that in mind, and hang in there!

Thanks again for the reviews and reads! Don't forget to follow ThsBabeNmedReba on twitter! ***

-Chapter 11-

I was so focused on the road in front of me that the abrupt sound of my phone ringing made me jump. It took me a few seconds to steady my hands enough to answer.

"Hello?"

"Reba, I've been honking behind you since we exited the highway. Pull over!" I turned around to see Brock's truck behind me, and finally comprehended the honking noises I had heard in the background of my thoughts.

My initial thought was to scream no, and say I had to go. But I knew there was no getting rid of Brock that way. So, I mumbled okay and pulled off to the side. He hopped out of his truck and walked to my window. I rolled it down, deciding not to get out.

"What?" I mumbled.

"Where are you going?" He kneeled down and leaned against the car so he could see me.

"Brock, I told you, it's none of your-"

"I'll leave you alone," He interrupted, "If you can promise me one thing." He said in a voice so serious it caught me off guard.

"Okay." I said, unsure.

"Are you going someplace where you may be in danger?" He looked into my eyes.

"Brock, you left me." I said bluntly, and I could tell by his face that it stung. "You made it pretty damn clear you don't care. So now, jumping in and acting like you're going to be my savior isn't going to work. It's just not fair to me…For you to play with my feelings like that. You know? I don't even know where we stand anymore!" I was starting to let out more than I planned, but his pale, saddened face stopped me. I took a deep breath and collected myself before starting again. "I've been protecting myself for 6 years now. I'll be fine."

I could tell by the look on his face that there was so much he wanted to tell me. But Brock was never good with his words. I could practically see his mind moving trying to figure out how to explain what he was feeling. Finally, he spoke quietly. "I don't mean to play with your feelings. I guess it's just-I, I really…" He rubbed his head. "I still care about you, Reba." He looked at me, making me regret what I had said. It was silent for a few seconds.

Encouraged by the silence that filled the air around us and the new feelings I was experiencing from what he said, thoughts began to flow through my mind. They were lonely thoughts and feelings I always tried to avoid. I didn't have feelings for Brock after what he did to me, of course I didn't. But still, seeing the way he cared and the way he wanted to help made me long for what we had before. Especially after being exposed to John, the gentleness and affection Brock offered made my heart yearn for it. And then, like a sudden flash of lightening right before a storm hits, I was reminded that these feelings are only temporary. I will never feel that true kind of love from Brock again- not after what he had done. The single thought that Brock and I are over, and I'll never feel the way I did with him with anyone else, shrouded my mind like a dark cloud and turned my stomach into a knot. I looked up at him, rage and heartbreak flaring in my eyes. I've never been this hurt by someone caring. I've never been this hurt at all.

And that's when I realized that until I felt the way Brock made me feel, and until I found someone who could ease my pain exactly the way he could, I would be alone. No, after spending my life with Brock, there's no way I'd settle for less. But, what if there is no better than Brock? Then what? Do I settle with John, simply because I know there is nothing fake between us? We just use each other to take out our loneliness and frustrations. I know he doesn't love me, he knows I don't love him. No one can get hurt that way, right?

These feelings weighed down on me like rocks, and at that moment, I wanted Brock to understand just how much he hurt me. I'd never truly told him. Actually, we'd never had a full-on conversation about the divorce at all. I looked up to find him staring at me, in that caring way that brought back those same damn feelings.

"Even if I were in danger," I spoke slowly, "And even if I were about to go to someone who may cause me harm," I took a breath, "There is nothing he has done, or can possibly do, that would hurt me the way you did."

His eyes glistened and he swallowed as he looked down to the ground. "I've gotta go." I mumbled. He stepped back, keeping his eyes on the ground, and let me go as I rolled up my window and pulled away.

Tears stung my eyes as I looked back to see him walking slowly back to his truck, his head still down. But I pushed them away, and kept driving, convincing myself that _he_ made this decision, and this is what _he_ wanted.

The door to John's was unlocked, so I walked straight in. He was cooking something on the stove. When he saw me, a big, happy, horny, charming smile came to his face.

"You're back early."

"Yeah." I sat down my purse and walked to his side. As much as I hated him and all he did, it was nice to be with someone, free from contradicting feelings that tore my heart out. I knew exactly the way I felt for John, and I knew exactly the way he felt for me. There was no confusion and no disappointment. And honestly, when John wasn't being stupid or mean, he was pretty fun to be around. He sat down his cigarette as I came next to him, wrapping an arm around him. "Watcha making?"

"Spaghetti. I'm making enough for two, if you want some." He put his free arm around my waist as well, although his went a little lower.

"Sounds good." I leaned my head into him, enjoying the feeling, when he suddenly moved to get something on the counter. I fell forward, but caught myself in time. He walked back and continued cooking. Feeling like I was in his way, I walked around the counter and sat on the bar stool. I watched him cooking from behind for a few seconds, before he turned around to face me.

"We need to talk." He seemed serious, yet not enough to make me concerned.

"Okay. About what?"

"Do you talk to your ex a lot?" I was almost in shock by his question.

"Brock?" I asked, stupidly. He nodded his head. "Not really. Why?" I responded, trying to hide how bad it hurt to think of him.

"I just want to make sure you don't say anything…about us. That's none of his concern, you know?" I nodded, although I wasn't exactly following him. "I know sometimes I get a little mad, and do things I probably shouldn't, but I always have my reasons. You know that." No, actually, I didn't. I didn't know there were legitimate _reasons_ for someone to act the way he did. "Just make sure you keep it quiet. If you have a problem with anything I do, take it up with me. Not anyone else." Although there was no way I could 'take it up with him' that I hated how much he pushed me around, I nodded in agreement.

Dinner went by smoothly. The food was great, and John seemed relaxed. I had a few glasses of wine, and he had a couple beers. We shared small talk, mostly about cars and sex. Afterwards, I excused myself to the restroom, where I checked myself in the mirror. My eyes looked more aged than usual, but I blamed it on the drinking. Other than that, I was almost satisfied with the way I looked. My hair fell loosely around my shoulders, and for the first time in a long time I didn't need to brush it down. Brock always like when my hair was a wild mess, though. He thought it was 'cute'. Thinking back to him brought back those feelings, and I knew I had to do something quick to stop them.

I walked back into the kitchen to see John pulling out another beer.

"Hey," I said. He turned towards me, "We haven't ridden in a while." A smirk came to his face.

"Are you up for it?"

"As much as I'll ever be."

"Let's go, then." He put the beer back in the fridge and headed out the door. I rushed to catch up with him.

We walked into his garage, and he jerked off the tarp covering his red Harley. Seeing it brought back so many old memories. Riding his motorcycle was the first thing I remembered that gave me that adrenaline-pumping feeling I would get with John. I told him I needed a helmet, and he searched for a few minutes before finding one. He handed it to me, and then hopped on, motioning for me to get behind him.

"What about you?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"A helmet. You need one, too." I said.

"No, I'm fine. Just get on."

"But John…"

"Get on." I decided not to argue, and got on behind him, wrapping my arms around his built torso.

As we pulled out of the driveway and picked up speed, my heart raced faster and faster. The wind turned into icy pellets that pierced my skin and made me want more.

"Faster!" I yelled against the sound of our speed. He went accelerated, causing me to laugh in fear and excitement. I hadn't felt this good in years. I gripped onto him tighter and buried my face deep in his leather jacket, remembering the first night I rode with him.

The ride went by quick for me, although we actually rode for a while. Eventually, John pulled off to the side of the road at an unfamiliar stop by a river I didn't know existed. He hopped off, and then helped me down. After grabbing a blanket from behind the seat, he led the way down to the lake.

The moon cast a peaceful glow on the shore, and I watched as he spread the blanket. The scene was too romantic for me- At least too romantic to be shared with John. Moments this beautiful should be saved for someone meaningful. But I knew he'd ruin it eventually.

He pulled me down on the blanket besides him and began kissing my neck. I giggled as he held me in one arm and pulled out a cigarette with the next. He took a long puff, and then glanced back down at me, then down to my shirt.

"Take it off." He said out of the corner of his mouth. I got on my knees and did as he said. He stared at my chest and stomach for a few seconds, licking his lips. Then he handed his cigarette towards me. I shook my head no.

"C'mon. Just one puff." He waved it in front of me.

"No." I responded.

He sat up and got on his knees the way I was. He came close to my face and held it up to my lips. It was impossible to say no when he did things like this.

Without thinking, I inhaled the thick, scratchy smoke slowly. After feeling it catch in my throat, I felt as if I couldn't breathe, like my chest had gotten hit by a truck. By the time I remembered how to exhale and inhale again, I was overwhelmed with the feeling of light headiness and dizziness.

John laughed as I coughed so hard it hurt. I pushed him back on his back and turned around to pout. But my fit didn't last long, because as soon as I relaxed my tense arms I felt him wrap around me.

"Take all of it off." He whispered in my ear, making every nerve in my body explode.

I looked at him daringly. "Give me another puff, first."

He looked shocked. "After what just happened?"

"I heard it's easier after the first time, anyways." He laughed and handed me the rest of his cigarette. The first few drags were just as before, though each one was a little easier to handle. By my 4th puff, I actually almost enjoyed the feeling in my throat.

"Okay, I gave you one…" He hinted.

I stood up and stripped in front of him, loving the feeling of the nicotine in my lungs, the cold air on my body, and John's eyes looking me up and down. _This_ was what I had been missing.

I sat down on him and pulled his shirt over his head, kissing and biting his neck. He let out a low groan as my hands slipped down his bare stomach and over his jeans. I unbuttoned them, and yanked them off, causing him to laugh in ecstasy.

The rest of the night consisted of hot sex by the river, a cold ride home (me only wearing a bra and panties, which again was unexplainably adrenalizing), followed by a steamy shower at his house. The next morning, at around 9, I gave him the best I could one last time before telling him I should head home.

I was surprised when he didn't put up a fight about it. "I have a lot of work this week, so I'm not sure when I'll see you next. Plus I have the kids next weekend…" I said cautiously as I left the door. I could tell John was still high off of our morning 'fooling-around' by how cooperative he was being.

"It's alright. I have a few parties this week, anyways. As long as you can find a little time this weekend, I'll be fine." He said, slapping my butt. I knew what 'partying' meant for John, and I honestly didn't like the idea. It did, however, help me understand why he was so okay with not seeing me for a while.

I began to walk out toward my car.

"Hey Little Red!" He stopped me. "Don't you be talking to any guys. Hear me?" He asked sternly, sounding almost like my father.

"Yeah. Same for you, mister. But with girls, of course." I responded.

"Haha, sure." His sarcastic response made me turn around again and stare at him. He didn't notice, but instead walked back in the house. I shook my head, got in the car, and drove to Brock's to get the kids.

When I got to Brock's, I walked in the unlocked backdoor feeling uneasy knowing that everyone in the house was so unaware of how I had acted the night before. And that morning. But my thoughts were shoved to the back of my mind when Jake came running around the corner.

"Hey mom!" He gave me the kind of hug that only a son could give.

"Hey darling! Did you have a good weekend?"

"I sure did! This morning I woke up but dad wasn't up and he wouldn't get up so I had to make my own breakfast but I was too lazy to make something big so I found a new gallon of ice cream and I ate it all and it was awesome! I'll be in the car!" He jumped out the door and sprinted to the car. I found myself laughing, as much as I wanted to be mad.

"Brock?" I walked into the living room. Kyra was walking out at the same time, holding Elizabeth.

"Cheyenne and Van went to a movie. Dad's upstairs. I think he's sick." She said flatly, carrying Elizabeth out the door.

"Y'all wait in the car, I'll be right out!" I yelled behind them.

I walked up the stairs and into Brock's room. I pushed the door opened slowly, and heard deep snores coming from his bed.

"Brock?" I walked in and went to his side of the bed. He was out cold. I started to shake his shoulders. "Brock, wake up." I shook harder until finally he snapped awake.

"What?" He looked at me, confused, with sweat across his forehead.

"Hey I got the kids." I said, "We're going home now. Okay?"

"Oh, okay." He said, rubbing his head. It struck me as odd how out of it he seemed, and just as I began to worry about what he had done, my fears were confirmed. I turned behind me to find two empty bottles of whiskey on the dresser. I walked over, grabbed one, and walked back to him.

"Brock, what is this?" I asked, holding it up.

"Whiskey." It took him a long time to say such a short word.

"Were you drinking again last night?"

"Just a little, nothing bad." He continued to rub his head in his palms. He seemed completely lost to the world.

"Why?" I asked, trying to make it sound as simply as I could. He didn't answer, but held his head in his hands. I sat down on the bed by his side. "Brock?" I asked quietly. He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Did you have a good night?" He asked so casually it caught me off guard.

"Yes. Why?"

"Just making sure. I was worried about you." My heart softened a little.

"Yeah, I did." I said with a smile. "But I'm assuming you didn't?" I motioned with the bottle in my hand. He chuckled, but still didn't answer. "Well, I better get going." I said, standing up. "Jake had ice cream for breakfast, by the way." I said, giving a disapproving glance.

"My bad." He said with as much of a smirk as he could make. I could tell he didn't feel good, and decided to let him rest. I'd talk to him more when he felt better.

"I'll see you later, Brock." I said, walking out the door.

Just before closing the door, I glanced back to see him staring at the ground. The look on his face was one I'd never seen him wear before. He looked like he had accidentally killed someone. So much regret and guilt filled every inch of his face that it hurt me to look at him. I turned around, tried to forget it, and walked out.


	12. Chapter 12

-Chapter 12-

The next few weeks went by in a carefree daze. I found time to visit John as much as I could, which kept him happy. Me and Kyra had gotten on better terms since our scuffle; we weren't like we used to be, but at least we had made some progress. I asked some important people at work if my spot at the label was in danger, and they told me not to be silly, and that all it was were rumors. I talked to Brock the day after I found him hung over, and convinced him that there was nothing going on that he should be concerned about. I told him I had just been emotional because John and I were fighting, but that we had made up and I was okay now. I even went as far as to convince him that I thought John could be 'the one'. Of course I didn't believe that, but I had to go overboard to make sure he believed me.

I was back into a natural routine, and between shows and filming and being a mother, I didn't have time to think of any of the feelings that had bugged me so bad before. That was, until one day Barbara Jean came by to talk to me.

"Reba, we need to talk." She said, barging in the back door in her usual manor.

"Hi to you too." I said, focusing more on making dinner than on her.

"Hi Reba. There. Now, can we talk?" She said, sitting on a barstool.

"If I say no, you're going to talk anyways. So I'm not exactly sure why you're asking me."

"It's serious, Reba." The tone in her voice reminded me that we hadn't talked about my events the morning after staying at John's. Knowing Barbara Jean, I was surprised she didn't bring it up earlier.

"Okay, what's up?" I said, taking a deep breath and bracing myself to tell the story I told Brock.

"I know what's going on."

"What do you mean?" What was going on that she knew about? I began to get nervous, trying to think back to see if there was any way she could have known about John. As far as I could see, there wasn't.

"With you and Brock."

"Me and Brock?" I laughed, partially from relief and partially from genuine humor.

"Yes you and Brock." She kept a straight face. "Reba, I'm not dumb. I can see things that you think I can't." Hearing the Big Blonde Bimbo talk so seriously made me a little uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure what you're saying." I responded.

"His drinking every since your divorce, you staying out partying at God-Knows –Where…" She stood up and started walking around the counter towards me. "The way he looked at you when he saw you after you had been crying- Reba, I've never seen him look at anyone like that! The way you had a hard night, and the first thing you did when you got home was go to him!" She was standing in front of me, and I couldn't make since of what she was trying to say.

"Barbara Jean, I don't have time for games. I don't know what you're trying to say, but it's really getting on my nerves-Just like everything else you do. First off, I was not _partying_. Second, I didn't go to him! He was just here! I had no control over that!" I said. "There is nothing that needs to be discussed. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to make dinner." I moved her out of the way, and it was quiet for a few seconds as I began to boil water. Right as I was about to make sure she was okay (I'd never heard her speechless for over 30 seconds), she spoke.

"You need each other, Reba." She said so softly it lingered in the air. I turned to face her slowly, taken back by what she had said.

"What?" Was all I could manage.

"You need each other." She repeated, "Listen, I don't know what's going on with your personal life, but all I know is it's nothing good. As your best friend, I know when you're hiding something." I rolled my eyes, but let her continue. "That day you came in crying… you looked awful, Reba. I can't even describe it. You are the strongest person I know, and yet that day you looked so weak and vulnerable that it hurt me to see it." Her words stung as she hit hard on the truth. I didn't want to hear anymore, but I needed to. So, I stayed quiet. "Last week, I saw the hickey on your neck." My throat tightened as I realized I didn't hide it as well as I had thought. "And earlier this week, I thought I saw another one on your jaw, but I looked closer and realized it was a bruise." Tears formed in her eyes, and I quickly looked away. John had only gotten 'mad' once in the last few weeks, but of course, it left a mark. The kind of marks John leaves is hardly noticeable… He's smart when it comes to doing stupid things. He makes it just visible enough to where I can see it in the mirror, and I can wince at the tenderness of it, but no one else can notice. Well, almost no one. "I guarantee you no one else noticed. You know why?" I was frozen, but she didn't expect an answer. "Because you've hidden it, Reba. You've hidden it all so well that no one, not even you, realizes just what it is you're hiding. But I can see it. And it's killing me. I know I can't help you, but I know who can…" She trailed off, looking intensely at me. I looked down, not allowing her to see me weak anymore.

"I'm sorry you saw those things. You don't need to worry about me." I mumbled, feeling like I was talking more to the air than to B.J.

"I'm going to worry about you! And nothing you say is going to stop me."

Seconds passed like years as I stared at the floor. It was strange to feel so pressured and serious with her. Finally, still avoiding eye contact, I spoke.

"Are you trying to tell me I need Brock?" I didn't want to ask it. In fact, it hurt to ask it.

"Yes." She answered as if she had wanted to tell me forever.

I took a deep breath. "Maybe I do need him. I'm not exactly sure. But the one thing I'm sure of is that this isn't the most I've ever needed him." I took a deep breath. "The most I ever needed him was when our children were having growing pains. Or, when our baby was having a baby. Or, when I was almost beaten up at a bar. I needed him then, but instead, someone else came to my rescue, and ended up putting me in even more danger." She leaned closer, hoping I'd tell the story behind all of her unanswered questions. I knew I was off track, and didn't want to begin talking about John with her. "What I'm trying to say is that if I can make it through those times without him, I can make it now without him." I still refused to look at her. After my last statement, I grabbed some noodles and poured them in the pot on the stove.

"But if you know you need him, even a little, what is stopping you from taking him back?" The question made me think. A lot was stopping me, really; the idea of being with Brock now just seemed absurd. All I knew is that I didn't want to be having this conversation, especially with her.

"Barbara Jean, I would think you of all people would be the most aware of what happened between us. Brock made up his mind that he didn't want me anymore, and he moved on. Simple as that. _He_ made the decision. You can't just jump in and tell us we need to be together! That's makes no sense what so ever."

"Reba please just listen-"

"I_ really_ don't want to talk about this." I said, slamming the spoon, which I was using to stir the noodles, on the counter with a little too much force. Boiling water splashed in the air when it hit the counter and landed on my sleeve, burning my arm through the fabric. I yelled a curse word I know B.J. has never heard me say before, and she jumped back in shock.

"Reba-"

"Please, go." I said through clenched teeth, gripping the spoon hard in my hand.

She made a stern, unreadable face, and walked towards the door. She opened it, and then turned back to me.

"You want to know something, Reba?" She asked. I looked at her. "When Brock and I first got married, we weren't happy. Actually…we never were happy. That's why we filed for divorce. We were never in love, you know? We were just… I'm not sure what we were." She was speaking slow and cautiously. "But I remember, when we first started living together, sometimes I would walk in our bedroom and find Brock staring at a picture with tears in his eyes. I've never seen that man cry, so I'd always rush to him and see what was wrong. But his reaction was always the same- he'd put the picture in a little wooden box before I could get to him, and then act like nothing was wrong. He would hide that box so well that I never found it, and I was always wondering just what was in it." I wondered why she was telling me this before she continued. "When we were sorting through stuff before I moved out, I found the box. And, I know I shouldn't have, but I looked inside. You know what I saw?" I was expecting she would keep talking without an actual answer, but she stopped and stared at me, waiting to see if I'd respond. Honestly, I didn't know if I wanted to know what she found or not. But I knew it would kill me she didn't tell me.

"What?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Pictures." She stepped back towards me. "Of each of you- on your wedding, your honeymoon. There were some pictures of you alone, too. Beautiful pictures. One of you singing, and one of you holding Kyra. And there were notes that you had written to each other when you were in high school." As her words sunk in, I felt like my stomach had been hit a basketball. It was all I could do to stand straight as my mind processed what she was saying. "Every time I walked in on him looking at a picture or a note from that box with a bottle of whiskey next to him, just realize this- He was looking at _you._ He was looking at what he gave up." I was sure I wasn't breathing. She started walking out the door, and somehow a part of me didn't want to be left alone with so many thoughts at once. "Just know," She turned around one last time, "That sometimes people make mistakes, Reba. You know something about that, don't you? Sometimes people don't realize what they're doing until it's been done. But, is it fair for them to have to live their life paying for it?" And with that, she walked out the door, leaving me alone in my kitchen, palms sweating and heart beating quickly, eyes threatening to burst.

_You know something about that, don't you? _I leaned against the counter to support my swaying body. Everything she said related to me, and yet I feel like it related to Brock, too. And about the box…

My mind went blurry and my feet went numb as I pictured Brock, drunken with tears pooled up in this eyes, looking down at us. Does he think he made a mistake? Is that the thought that has been driving him to drink himself numb the way he has been? Does he need us? Does he need me?

Do I need him?


	13. Chapter 13

***This is a short chapter, but I should have more tomorrow! Keep up the reviews, y'all are great! :) ***

Chapter 13

"Reba!" John pounded his fist hard on the table. "I've been talking to you for the last 10 minutes and you're not even paying attention! What the hell are you thinking about?" He sat across from me on his dining room table with a few empty beers in front of him. We each had a large amount of chicken on our plates, considering neither one of us had an appetite.

"I'm sorry hun, I was just thinking about things." I responded, not knowing if I should be scared or not.

"Don't apologize, Reba. I'm sick of it!" He stood, and I knew to be scared. "The past three days I've been trying to be a good guy and treat you right, and you don't even bother to acknowledge me? What has gotten into you? Huh? Is it another man?''

I stood on shaky knees. "John, no, of course not! I've just been really stressed lately, with work and the kids and-"

"Stop giving excuses!" He threw a beer bottle across the room, and all of my calmness shattered along with the glass as it made contact with the wall. He began walking around the table towards me, and I started backing up.

"John quit it!" I yelled, trying not to show my fear. I knew he was right- I hadn't been myself for the last three days. But with everything Barbara Jean had said, it was kind of hard not to. Every second since our moment together had been filled with conflicting thoughts about Brock. I knew John must have noticed the way I would zone out while we were in the middle of a conversation, but I kept telling myself I'd pull it together before he got mad. I guess I had been too late. But all I was focused on now was keeping him from getting mad enough to hurt me. "Honey, c-calm down." I walked towards him, holding out my arms and laying them on his chest when we got close enough. He stared down at me with a clinched jaw and eyes that penetrated mine. I couldn't breathe, but forced myself to keep the situation under control. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll work on it." I stood on my tip toes and kissed right under his ear. I felt him ease a little.

"Just… Get it together, okay? I don't have to deal with this shit." He pulled my arms off of him and grabbed our plates from the table. He threw them in the kitchen sink and grabbed another beer. I waited quietly, feeling like a puppy who had just been scolded, until he spoke to me again.

"Well, dinner's out of the way. Are we going upstairs now or what?" He was definitely in a bad mood, but I was just thankful he was calmer than before.

As much as I honestly didn't want to, I knew that I had to. That was the only reason I came, anyways. Well, for him it was. The only reason I came was the fear of what he'd do if I didn't. But at least this was a for-sure way to calm him down.

"Okay." I said, walking over to him. He didn't bother to bend down as I strained to reach his mouth and kiss him softly. "You ready?" I asked in my hushed southern voice. He walked right past me and upstairs. Feeling as used and dumb as I should have, I followed.

The hard thing with John is that you never know what he is feeling, or how he is going to react to something. It seems his mood is constantly changing, and it's impossible to get used to. I couldn't tell if he was mad or not as he walked upstairs, knowing I was following, without looking or speaking to me. All I could do was do my best, and hope it would work.

We walked into his room, and he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at me with that unreadable face he wears so well. I smiled a seductive smile and began walking towards him, watching his muscles relax as his eyes scanned down my body. I reached him, and then sat on top of him with my legs on either side of him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed myself against his obvious hardness, and tried to read his face.

"You're mad at me." I said with a puppy dog face.

"Make me not mad at you." He said. He didn't touch me, but his eyes melted me.

I smiled, and then leaned forward, pressing my lips against his. He didn't kiss back until I forced my tongue between his limp lips. He sighed into our kiss and grabbed onto my hair, tugging it as our tongues wrestled. I pulled off, and started kissing down his jawline and neck. When I reached his shirt, I ripped it over his head and pushed him back onto the bed, staying in a sitting position on top of him. I ran my fingers over his hairy chest. I leaned down and started kissing his abs. Relief rushed over me when I heard a relaxed, pleased groan and felt his muscles loosen up even more. I unbuttoned his pants, and he got off the bed to take them off. Afterwards, he came back to me and pushed me on my back on the bed, yanking off my pants. He climbed on top of me, holding my thighs apart with his hands and pressing himself hard against my panties. I moaned and rolled my head back as he began thrusting for a few minutes, each time getting more forceful. He pulled me up again with one arm and used the other to take off the rest of my clothes, then laid me back down.

"Oh John…" I purred as he kissed around my neck and chest. I arched my back as he took my breast in his mouth, and wanted so much more of him. He pulled back and stood on his knees, looking down at me. He gently ran his fingers down my chest, across my breasts, and down my stomach, teasing me by rubbing circles right beneath my naval. My moans got louder and louder as he got closer. As soon as his fingers went deep between my legs, I began rocking my hips against them, moaning his name. He pounded his fingers into me hard and fast. Before I knew it, he pulled them out and replaced them with his own length. He grunted with each thrust inside of my body.

Eventually, John came. I never did, however. As great as it started out, the more and more into it we got the more and more my mind wondered away. I couldn't help but think of what Brock might possibly be doing, and just pray he wasn't drinking. The kids were with him, too. I tried to push the thoughts away as we lay there, John's back to me. I took a deep breath, knowing how wrong our whole relationship was. I had just recently begun thinking about when I decide to move on past him. I was lucky to get away last time, but would I be that lucky now?

Finally, I drifted off to find myself alone on a vast beach shore, searching for Brock. I didn't know where he was or how I knew he was there- All I knew was that I must find him. I started calling his name, feeling my voice crack as I screamed for him. The air was cold and empty, and the ground sank beneath my feet as I ran. I was alone and scared, running from something.

"Brock! Brock please come here!" I couldn't stop myself as I began crying on the beach. Suddenly, I felt a strong tug on my head. The feeling was so real and clear compared to all of the other things I was feeling, and it made everything go blurry as I focused on the pain. Soon, my vision went completely black and I heard John's voice.

"Wake up, bitch." He pulled my head off of the bed by my hair, causing me to cry out in pain.

"What- What's going on?" I stared at his fuzzy face intensely until I could make out his features.

"You're dreaming about that bastard!"

"What? Who?'' I rubbed my sore head.

"I'll be damned if you ever say his name in my bed again!'' He yelled fiercely. He brought his hand high over his shoulder, and then swung it down into my cheek, knocking me off of the bed. I lay there until the pounding in my head stopped, and then slowly started putting on my bra, panties, and shirt which were next to me. I couldn't find my pants, but I didn't care.

"I'm leaving." I said as I began walking out the door.

"Like hell you are!" He said, running after me. He came up from behind and put his forearm across my neck. I gasped as the pressure from him made it hard for me to breathe. He had never grabbed my neck outside of sex before, and I actually feared for my life.

"John-please let me go. Please." My voice was strained. He ignored me as he yanked me back to the bed, keeping his arm in place, and threw me down on it. He laid down next to me quickly before I could get up, and draped his heavy arm over me. I moaned and wiggled beneath him, but couldn't manage to get away as he laughed at me. He pulled the covers over us and pulled me close, which he had never done before. Had it not been under the circumstances, I would have probably really enjoyed it.

"Have sweet dreams about me, okay?" He whispered in my ear as he grabbed my breast. He squeezed so hard I had to hold my breath until he let go. Then, I lay there in the dark, entangled in a monster's arms. The question I had asked myself earlier had just been answered- With mine and John's relationship, there may be no turning back this time.


	14. Chapter 14

***Sorry it's been so long. I hope y'all like this chapter! I liked writing it a lot. :) Thanks again for the reads and reviews! Y'all are great!***

-Chapter 14-

John's bed was hard and cold underneath me, and the pressure of his arm on top of me made me extremely uncomfortable. It had surely been hours since he viciously woke me up, and I lay there under his strong embrace wondering what to do next. The one thing I knew for sure was that I had to get out of there by morning.

Usually with John, the morning after a fight was awful. He didn't need to be sweet to me because I had already given him sex the night before, so he could let all of his anger out. And considering he had already put his arm around my throat, I didn't want to see how much worse it could get.

His snores were deep and low behind me, and I could feel his chest rise and fall against my back. I wondered if he was in a deep enough sleep for me to move his arm. I wiggled around a little first, and then tried to pry his arms off of me. John was a strong man, so this wasn't an easy task. Plus, I was restrained, considering I couldn't risk waking him up.

After gentle pushing and squirming for a few minutes, he finally rolled over, taking his arm off of me. Relief flooded my body as I slowly eased out of bed. I grabbed my phone and purse, ready to leave, when I realized that John had picked me up and I didn't have a car here. My heart went numb and my hands shook as I tried to think of what to do. I looked down at my phone. The time showed 3:15 am. _It would be too late to call him,_ I told myself, and pushed the thought away.

After standing on shaky legs in the corner of his room for what seemed like ages, I decided to at least leave his house before going from there. _I'll just sneak out the door, and when I'm a safe distance away, I'll call Dolly. She'd do anything for me, so surely she wouldn't mind. _I consoled myself.

On stiff toes, I walked towards the bedroom door, keeping my eyes on John. His snores had gotten lighter, which was worrying me. I reached out with my hand and slowly turned the old door knob.

I should have remembered the squeak his bedroom door made. Right as I pushed it open, the awful sound slid across the ground and echoed into the silent room. My muscles tensed up and I froze, not daring to look behind me as I noticed his snoring had stopped. I heard movement behind me, and silently prayed. Nothing specific, I just prayed. _Please God, please God._

"What are you doing?" Came his sleepy voice from behind me. I bit my lip so hard I could have sworn I tasted blood.

"Um…" I turned around slowly. "I was going downstairs to get something."

He turned on the bedside light, revealing his dark expression. "Get what?" He spit.

I knew my only chance with him, and the only way I could control him, was with my body (and what it could do). He was more sex driven than anyone I knew. So, I turned around with a seductive smile and purred at him. "It's a surprise for you."

He stood up and collected himself before speaking. "At 3:20?" He asked, unconvinced.

"Hey, it's a surprise, right? I promise you'll like it. I was thinking I need to make it up to you after what happened earlier." I had nothing I needed to 'make up' to him. _Just go along, Reba. This could be life or death._

"Okay, but I'm coming too." He walked behind me and pressed me out the door.

"Uh okay, follow me." I tried to maintain my control, but I was panicking. I didn't know what to do, but I needed to figure something out. Right as we got to the bottom of the stairs, I looked to the long curtains and an idea came to me. I walked over to them, looking over my shoulder to see him staring at me questionably. I giggled, and pulled off the ribbon curtain tie-backs. I faced him, and held them tight between my hands. "You ready?" I lifted my eyebrow.

"Um, I think so?" He said with a curious, lust-filled laugh.

"C'mon, then." I said, walking past him and whipping his butt with one of the ribbons.

When we got back to the room, I instructed him to lie on the bed. He did so, and smiled when I climbed on top of him. I grabbed his hands, and tied them above his head onto the head board.

"I see what you're doing." He chuckled, getting hard beneath me.

"Mhmm." I tied them as hard as I could manage, knowing I'd have to. It took me several seconds of knotting before I was a little more relaxed with the whole idea.

"Why are you tying them so tight?" He asked.

"Because I don't want you getting away." I truthfully said in a playful tone. He smirked as I scooted back and started rubbing my hands up his chest. I kissed along his scuffled jaw line and nibbled on his ears. He chuckled and moaned underneath me. "Do you like this?" I drawled.

"Hm, yes ma'am." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. I knew I had him where I wanted him.

"Wanna know what I like?" I whispered in his ear, suddenly empowered by the fact that he was defenseless.

"What?" He asked smiling, his eyes still closed.

"I like a man who treats me right." I said harshly and stiffened my back, looking down at him.

He opened his eyes, causing my heart to stop, and stared at me. "What do you mean?"

I should have just ran- I know that. But at the moment, I felt all of the things I had hidden from him unfold in front of me. I should have left. I should have ran out the door and never looked back. But this man hurt me, and I wanted him to know exactly how bad.

"I mean," I said, rubbing his length beneath his underwear, just so he would feel the confusing way he made me feel. He tried to look concerned but I watched him slowly melt underneath me. "I mean," I repeated, "That I like a man I'm not scared of."

"Please. You're not scared of me." He said, his eyes closed and a pleased smirk along his face as I continued to rub.

"Do you know how it feels to be pushed around? To be hit?" I asked, rubbing harder as my voice rose. He lifted his head suddenly and looked at me, breathing deeply.

"What the hell Reba?" He asked, disoriented.

"Well, John, it hurts!" I practically screamed. I brought my fist up high, and smashed it down against his face. My knuckles stung with pain, but God it felt good.

John blinked rapidly. As soon as he could process what I had done, he looked up at me with burning eyes. "You little bitch." He jerked up his knee, kneeing me in between my legs. I cried out, and jumped off of him. He twisted and turned his body, trying to escape. I knew I didn't have much time. I grabbed the half-full bottle of beer by his bed and poured it on him, and then ignored his screams and curses as I grabbed my purse and ran as fast as I could.

I tripped on the stairs and fell hard on my face. My heart beat quickly as I used my numb limbs to pull myself off of the ground and keep going. I reached the backdoor, and my vision was fuzzy as I tried to unlock it. Finally, I pulled it open, and right before running out into the cold night, I processed what John had been screaming at me.

"You tell Brock about what I do to you, I swear to God I'll be after your whole damn family!" His jumbled words echoed in my mind as I raced across the gravel, tripping several times, but catching myself before falling. I ran out into the open, empty road leading to his house, and only then did I realize how cold it was. The air was harsh and bitterly freezing. I had completely forgotten about my pants until then, and found myself sprinting down an empty road in the middle of the woods wearing only a T-shirt, bra, and panties. I stopped when I ran out of breath, and reached in my purse to pull out my phone.

I know my plan was to call Dolly, but at that point I was so scared I was shaking, and a little 5 foot woman wearing a wig wouldn't provide me much safety. Without allowing myself to give it a second thought, I dialed Brock's number. It rang 4 times, and right as I was about to give up hope, I heard his comforting, concerned accent on the other end.

"Reba? Is that you?" He sounded sleepy. "Are you okay?" His voice was so relieving that I couldn't help it as tears started rolling down my cheeks.

"I-I'm fine. I need you to come g-get me." I tried to speak slowly so he could understand me between my gasps and sobs.

"Reba where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What's going on?" He sounded up and alert at this point.

"I-I don't know. I don't know. I don't know, I don't know!" My voice rose. I really didn't know. "Just please come get me." I cried.

"Okay I'm on my way!" He said frantically. "Do you have an idea of where you're at? My gosh Reba it's freezing! Are you outside?"

I ignored his second question and tried to figure out my location. My mind was so scattered I couldn't even remember the way to John's. Suddenly, I saw blurry lights through my tears. I wiped my eyes, and looked a little way down the road to find a gas station. I could tell it was open by the bright lights escaping the windows. I looked closer to see a lit up sign that said 'Charles Rest Stop'. I read it out loud over the phone.

"Charles Rest Stop?" He asked. "I know where that's at! Is that where you're at?"

"Y-yes. I'm by there." I responded shakily.

"Go inside there, okay? Find the man working there. It'll either be Charles, Junior, who is his son, or Adam, one of the workers. I know them all, and they're great people. Just go sit down and have them make you some coffee. I'm leaving right now, but it'll take me about 25 minutes to get there. Just get inside, okay?" His voice was shaky, but I knew he was trying to stay calm for me. I loved the fact that he didn't waste time with questions- he knew I was shaken up and in trouble, and like always, Brock got it under control quickly.

"Okay. But Brock? I-I'm not wearing pants." I said quietly, feeling completely exhausted, relieved, and embarrassed at the same time.

I heard a hard, sad sigh at the other end. I knew he wanted to ask what had happened, but I also knew part of him had an idea. "It's…" His voice shook a little and he coughed quickly. "It's fine, Reba. They won't care. I'm sure they see stuff like that all of the time in those parts of town." He faked a laugh.

"O-okay. Thank you, Brock."

"Of course." He said as I heard his truck start in the background. "I'll bet there as fast as I can darlin'." His voice was so urgent and alert that 'darlin'' came easily and didn't surprise me until after I had hung up.

I hustled down the road until I got to Charles. I became extremely aware of my partial nakedness when I walked into the light casted by the gas station. I pulled down my shirt as far as it would go, and tried to wipe the mascara away from my face.

I was surprised at how nice Charles' Rest Stop was. It was in the middle of absolute nowhere, but yet it was very well kept and had nice features to it. Thankfully, there was only one car there. I cautiously pushed the door open, and a bell rang. A man, probably in his early twenties, who I assumed to be Junior, came from a room in the back with a surprised look on his face.

"Welcome to…" He trailed off when he saw my face. "Whoa, you're Reba-" Then he realized I wasn't wearing pants. His face blushed and he turned his head quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck and awkwardly looked back at me, making it obvious he was just staring at my face. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I know I probably don't look like it now," I offered a light laugh, "But I'll be okay. Do you know Brock Hart?" Goodness this was awkward.

"Um, yes I do! He knows my dad." I couldn't help but giggle as he strained to keep his eyes on my forehead, his cheeks still red.

"Okay, well he's picking my up from here soon. Until then, could I just sit here?"

"Of course!" He motioned to a booth at the side of the store.

I looked over at it, and then back at him. I pulled my shirt low over my behind as I walked to the booth and sat down, my back facing him. When I got comfortable on the seat, I turned around to find him staring at the floor, not knowing if he could look up yet. Again, I laughed. "He said something about coffee." He looked up at me, relieved that he couldn't see my lower half anymore.

"Oh, yes ma'am! I'm on it!" A smile lit up his face as he ran to a coffee machine behind the checkout counter. "Brock always stops by for coffee when he comes through here." He brought it around to me, and awkwardly handed it to me from behind the booth. "I can tell you've had a rough day, so I'll just leave you alone. Call me if you need anything, okay? My name is Junior." I offered a genuine smile and nodded. "Wow. One minute you're selling cigarettes to an old lady holding a cat, and the next Reba is walking in pant-less. Who would have thought?" He mumbled under his breath as he disappeared into the back room he had come from.

I turned in the booth and tried to take a deep breath to calm myself. I took sips of my coffee, which warmed me up, but also added on to my shakiness.

Minutes passed by quickly as my breathing started to calm down. I was lost in thought, and lost in the silence of the empty gas station. As I was staring off into space, so lost in thought that even I didn't know what I was thinking about, my phone started vibrating on the table. Thinking it was Brock, I calmly took a sip and turned it over. But as soon as I saw John's number on the screen, I spit my coffee onto the table. I stared down with an open mouth at my screen as my phone shook in my hand.

"You alright in there?" I heard Junior call out.

"Uh-yeah!" I tried to sound casual.

I didn't dare answer. I hit decline, and slammed my phone down on the table. If _John could call me, then that means-_

My phone vibrated, and I saw that he was calling again. My heart beat picked up and my palms started sweating. I felt as if I was going to throw up my coffee. I was shaking uncontrollably as I looked out the window. "Please hurry, Brock." I begged under my breath.

Every time I hit decline, he'd call right back. I couldn't remember how far I had ran, but I knew if John went looking for me this would be the first place he'd check. The thought scared me so bad it made me sick, and without thinking I got up and sprinted towards the restrooms in the back.

After vomiting, I sat on the bathroom floor, which I knew must have been unsanitary against my bare legs. But I didn't care. The air around me spun, and I tried to focus on one spot to keep me from puking again. Suddenly, I heard the bell ring, telling me that someone had walked in.

I tried to stand, fell, and then tried again. When I could finally steady myself, I walked on shaky legs to the bathroom door. I slowly pushed it open, praying I wouldn't find John behind it.

But when I saw a tall, buff, tan man with dirty-blonde hair and cowboy boots searching the place, every ounce of fear left me. Without even thinking, I ran out of the bathroom and towards Brock. As soon as he saw me he ran towards me, too. We met in the middle, and I wrapped my arms around him as I cried into his shirt.

"It's okay, I'm here now." He rubbed my hair and held me tightly.

We stayed like that for a moment, each afraid to give up what we were sharing, when we heard Junior's voice. "Um, I'm sorry, y'all." He said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with us. "I wouldn't have interrupted, but I just got a call from a man asking if you were here." He said to me. I inhaled sharply, and I saw Brock stiffen up next to me. "He's still on the line. What do you want me to say?"

"No." I said directly. "I'm… I'm not here."

"Yes ma'am." He turned and walked out. I heard him in the other room explaining that he hadn't seen me.

I looked up at Brock, who was staring at me intensely. "Who is he?" He asked through clinched teeth.

"We need to go."

"Is he coming here?" He continued. "I swear to God I'll kill him." His fist clinched at his side.

"Brock, please-"

"No, Reba! I know he hurt you! I'll be damned if he gets away with it!" He yelled, and I lost it. The last thing my nerves needed was more yelling. He softened quickly and held me again. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"Brock," I pulled myself together and looked into his eyes, sounding as serious as I could. "Please, take me to the truck, and let's go." He stared at me for second. "Brock, _please._" I knew he could see the tears threatening my eyes.

"Okay, let's go." He agreed. I walked passed him quickly, and started towards the door.

"Uh, Reba? Why don't you walk beside me?" I felt a breeze brush the bottom of my butt cheeks. I spun around quickly to find Brock looking away with a face as red as mine.

"Sorry." I said embarrassed.

"It's alright." He said with a chuckle coming up beside me. "Thanks Junior. I'll pay for the coffee on my next time in!" He yelled to the back.

"It's all good, man. This one's on me!" He appeared in the back doorway with a smile on his face.

"Alright. Thanks!" Brock responded as we rushed outside into his truck to escape the cold. I climbed into the passenger seat and he leaned across the back seat to pull out an old blanket. "Here." He began to lay it across me, but stopped mid-way and let it fall onto my legs.

"Thank you, Brock." I said, meaning it in a way I never had before. I took a deep breath as he pulled off, and prepared myself for the ride home.


	15. Chapter 15

***Don't forget to follow ThsBabeNmedReba on twitter for updates, pictures, and a bunch of other things! It's This-Babe-Named-Reba without the 'i' in 'this' and the 'a' in 'named' because stupid twitter thought my name was too long. Also look for me on tumblr! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :) ***

-Chapter 15-

The long road stretched out in front of us, solely lit by the headlights of Brock's truck. The only sound that could be heard was the old, worn out heater on full blast.

I snuggled my legs close to my body under the blanket, and then looked over to Brock. His face was stern, like always, and focused on the road. His stiff arms led to white-knuckled hands clutching the steering wheel. It seemed like he was thinking so hard that he didn't notice me, so I continued to stare at him. _Who is this man? _I thought to myself. _Does he care enough about me to wake up in the middle of the night and drive in the freezing cold to the middle of nowhere? Just for me? _If this man sitting next to me is _my_ Brock, then there's no doubt about it. But that was the thing that had me stuck- Who is he? Was he the Brock that I loved deeply all of my life, and that loved me back with a kind of love I have never felt before? Or was he the man that took over one night when he decided he wasn't satisfied with me anymore? Either way, I seemed to be mesmerized by his face. Something drew me to it. It seemed so new to me, yet it seemed like home. I felt comforted looking at him; I felt security and sanity, two things I haven't felt in a long time.

I gazed at his profile, with just enough light casted on it for me to make out his features; His stern jaw, his tight lips, his perfectly shaped nose that led up to his eyes that crinkled around the corners. He was such a serious man, and I'm sure many would be scared of him if they had never met him before. But I've always loved that about him. It made me feel safe. He was never good with speaking about his feelings, but throughout the years he made it obvious that he cared a tremendous amount for me, and would put his life on the line if it meant saving mine. It could have been the way he would tense up and rush to my side if he thought I was in danger. Or maybe the way he would find an excuse to brush his fingers along my face, staring into my eyes with tears forming in his, and turning away just before they fell. Or maybe the way we'd spend long nights together, our bodies a tangled mess, making love so sweetly that I never knew it was possible to feel that way. Yes, maybe it was the way he'd rub his hands tenderly over my body while staring into my eyes. I remembered the feeling of him lifting my body up gently, kissing me softly, and then laying me back down as he whispered sweet words in my ear and proved to me just how much I meant to him. Never once had he threatened me, bruised me, slapped me, or cursed at me the way John had.

Brock sighed, and then caught me looking at him. His anger and stiffness subsided when his eyes met mine. We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us talking, but I felt as if our eyes said it all. _Could he tell all of the things I was thinking about him? Could he sense the way I was looking at him? Was he thinking the same about me?_

Finally Brock faced the road again, and took a deep breath, preparing to speak. "What's going on, Reba?"

I looked out the window. "A lot of things." I answered painfully. He sighed, probably knowing that I wouldn't tell him much.

"Please talk to me. You know you can trust me." He quietly said.

"Not anymore." I said, turning my back to him completely and looking out the window. I knew comments like that hurt him. They hurt me as well.

"Reba, no matter what has ever happened between us, I promised you I'd always keep you safe. And I meant it. I just want to protect you."

"Well you've done a shitty job, then." I said as tears formed in my eyes. My Brock was back, I just didn't know how long he'd stay. And honestly, I couldn't let myself give in to him, because the minute he left my heart would break all over again.

He took a deep breath, but didn't speak. We continued to travel slowly down the road. The tears were calmly rolling down my face, but they were silent as I stared at the dark passing scenery. I sniffled, and I knew Brock had looked over at me. He didn't say anything, but he pulled off to the side of the road. When the car stopped, I stayed in the same position, almost frozen, and closed my eyes tightly as the tears fell faster, making me shake.

"Hey," He said, reaching out and touching my shoulder, "Look at me."

"No." I mumbled, refusing to see him because I knew I'd cry even harder. I heard him unbuckle his seat belt and scoot to the middle seat. I slowly turned to him, but kept my eyes down.

"Reba…" He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. I looked up to see him making the face he made when he was in that situation. "I'm sorry." Was all he could come up with.

"It's not entirely your fault."

"Yes it is. All of it is." He said shamefully. I looked at him questionably to see the sadness draped across his features. I had never seen him so guilty in all of my life. "If I had been there for you, none of this would have happened."

I didn't respond; partially because it was true, and partially because somehow I felt bad for him. Instead, I reached out and put my hand on top of his. "It's fine. I'm okay, now." I forced a smile. Thank God he didn't buy it.

"Reba I know you." He responded. "And I hate that I've messed things up so badly that you can't trust me and open up to me like you used to." He didn't look at me when he talked.

I wanted to let him know so badly. I wanted to open up to him and cry into his arms. I wanted to tell him about all of the awful things John had done to me, and beg him to never leave my sight again. Then, I knew I'd be safe. But at the same time, John's words echoed through my head. _"You tell Brock about what I do to you, I swear to God I'll be after your whole damn family!" _Did he really mean that? Just the thought of him coming close to my family made me cringe. I could handle him hurting me, but if he went after my children I don't know what I'd do. _No,_ I told myself, _Now isn't the time to tell Brock. Don't even risk it._

I took a deep breath. "Listen, Brock. I'm so, _so_ grateful that you came. It means a lot to me. And I feel like I owe you something for this. But… I just can't tell you what's going on. You don't need to be concerned- I have things under control," I lied. "But I just can't talk to you about it. Okay? I'm sorry. This isn't fair for you, and I wish there was something I could do to make it up to you. I know I at least owe you an explanation, but I'm afraid I can't give you one." I looked down.

"Reba, please just-"

"Brock, I can't!" I screamed, putting my face in my hands and sighing, annoyed. It was hard wanting to tell someone something so bad, but at the same time knowing you can't.

"Okay." He finally agreed. "But I'll get it out of you sooner or later, Reba." He said, sure of himself. "Whoever you're running from is never going to hurt you again, I promise you." He added, putting his other hand on top of mine, which still rested on his.

His words comforted me, but also made me ache. "Thank you so much." I said as I offered a small hug. He returned it, and squeezed me tightly. After pulling away, he looked at me one last time and then turned back to the wheel. It was silent a few seconds before he added softly, "You don't owe me anything, Reba." I could tell he had been thinking about it since I said it.

"Huh?" It wasn't that he was so quiet that I couldn't hear him, it was that I wondered how he could even say that- after all he had just done for me.

"Keeping you safe is what I'm here for. I'd drop everything if I knew you were in trouble. It's not something that needs to be repayed... It's my job. It always has been. Making sure you're safe is the reason I'm here." He sighed, and waited a second before speaking again. "The only reaoson." He added so quietly he sounded like a child.

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just know you don't owe me anything."

I thought for a second. "Thank you." I said, and then turned to face the window again, wondering about his comment. The rest of the ride home was silent.

I was sitting on my couch, feeling so proud of myself about getting away from John. I was watching Maury, and actually enjoying myself. Suddenly, I heard two loud bangs against the door. _Surely he wouldn't do this again. _I reassured myself. Although I didn't believe it, saying it made me feel better.

I slowly got up and walked to the door, trying to stay quiet and calm. I looked through the peep-hole and saw John's disoriented face. Every bit of calmness left, and I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep me from screaming.

"C'mon, Reba, your lights are on! I know you're in there. Open the damn door!" He yelled, and then pounded his fists on the door again. "Open up!" His voice growled.

I jumped away from the door and ran upstairs as fast as I could. I went into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. I crawled into my bed, and mentally made sure all of the doors were locked before pulling my legs to my chest and shaking.

The silence passed by in what felt like years. I could hardly breathe as I strained my ears to stay alert of even the smallest of sounds. Right as I was about to let my guard down, I heard the sound of a door knob being busted, and the back door being slammed open. My breath caught in my throat and my vision went blurry as fear filled my body. I wanted to hide. I wanted to get Brock's old gun from the room across the hall. I wanted to run. But I couldn't. I was petrified... paralyzed.

I didn't move when I heard him yell my name. I didn't move when I heard him throwing things down stairs. I didn't move when I heard his boots beat against each individual step up the staircase. I didn't move when I heard his footsteps on the same floor as me. But as I saw him pushing open my bedroom door, I jumped from the bed and I ran. But of course, I was too late.

As soon as he saw me, he sprinted into action. I ran towards the bathroom in my bedroom. Right as I yanked the door open and rushed inside, he grabbed it from me and held it open as I tried with all of my strength to close it.

"Please leave! Leave me alone!" I cried.

"No, dammit!" With those words, he used all of his strength and pushed the door open hard enough to hit me in the nose, making my vision go out for a second. I stumbled back, and fell on my bottom. It felt like he had broke my nose as blood dripped out and my eyes started watering. He walked in and grabbed me under my armpits, lifting me up to where my face was equal with his, and my feet wern't touching the ground.

"Who do you think you are?" He spit in my face.

"I-I hate you!" Tears were streaming down my face, and that was all I could think to say.

"I don't care, Reba! I'll be damned if you ever leave me like that again!" He threw me down, and I landed hard on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath.

"John, please." I backed up slowly as he walked towards me. My back hit my shower and I knew I couldn't go any farther. He kneeled down infront of me, and slapped me hard across the face. Tears were flowing freely now.

"Why do you do this to me?" I sobbed. "What did I do?"

"What did you do?" His eyes showed how crazy he truley was. "You left me!" He pulled my hair, dragging my face close to his. "Now you have two options." He spoke slowly and calmly, and I smelt whiskey on his breath. My head was throbbing and stinging from where he was yanking. "You either come home with me," He stated like it was the best idea ever, "Or we continue the night like this." He hit me again, although this time not as hard. "Which is it?"

I felt like my head was bleeding, and I could taste the blood from my nose in my mouth. My legs were numb, and my face was stinging as my tears amplified the horrible pain.

"I'll... I'll go home with you." Every bit of confidence in myself and in my strength left me as those words left my quivering mouth.

He let go of my hair, and I sighed in relief. "Okay, baby. Let's go." He gently lifted me off of the ground from under my arms, and even with his gentleness they stung from him lifting me earlier.

He held my hand, and helped me into the truck when we got outside. He rubbed my upper thigh, and leaned in to kiss my cheek tenderly. "You'll be okay." No I wouldn't.

We went to his house, and had the gentlest sex we had ever had. He kissed my wounds, and ran his finger over the curve of my nose, starting between my eyebrows and following my nose as it dipped down and then rose back up at the end.

I didn't enjoy it. I hated it in fact. I didn't bother to fake a smile as we laid there afterwards. I looked over at him, not hiding how I felt.

"Don't be mad at me." He said, still high on sex.

"You hurt me." I stated.

"It hurt me when you left me. You had it coming." He turned over and went to bed.

We hit a bump, and I was brought out of my memory. I looked over to see Brock driving, and then out the window to find the darkness outside. Finally realizing where I was, relief washed over me. I relaxed, until I realized what I had done. I had escaped twice, but he followed me home each time. What was stopping him from doing that again?

"Oh God." I said under my breath. My chest tightened and my fists clinched. Brock turned to me, somehow having heard me.

"What?" He asked frantically.

"Oh God." I leaned over in my seat, feeling like I was going to throw up. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!" My hands were shaking as I pulled them up to my face.

Brock pulled over for the second time, but this time more quickly. "Reba? Reba?" He asked, yanking off his seatbelt and almost falling off of the seat because he moved to me so quickly. "What's wrong?" He grabbed my shoulders, and I jerked away from him. I pressed my back against the cold window and stared at him, my eyes wide in fear.

"Don't touch me!" I yelled.

"Reba!" He moved his hands away, but scooted close. "What has happened to you?"

"Oh God." I repeated, this time quietly. My muscles relaxed as I sank forward, falling into him. He caught me and put his arms around me as I laid my head on his shoulder. He rubbed his hands across my back, making me yearn for sincere tenderness.

"Please, _please, _tell me." He begged, his voice strained.

"I can't go home." Was all I could manage. I pulled off of him shakily and pulled myself together. "Please take me to a hotel. And don't ask why." I said, buckling my seatbelt and staring forward.

"You're staying at my house." He went back to the steering wheel, and pulled off quickly, leaving dust in the empty air behind us. I looked over to see his face painted with anger and his shaking, felxed hands on the wheel.

"Brock..."

"I'll kill the bastard." He drove quicker.

"Brock, be careful!"

"God I want him dead! He deserves to be!" He hit his hand hard on the steering wheel. It had been so long since I'd seen him like this.

"Just calm down and drop me off at the fancy hotel down town." I rubbed his shoulder, trying to prove that everything would be okay, although I knew it wouldn't be.

"You're staying at my house." He said once again. With the voice he used, I didn't argue. Part of me was actually relieved.

"Okay." I agreed, rubbing his shoulder one last time. He eased up a little.

We pulled into his house, and my legs were asleep from having them on the seat with me. I shook them around a little, and realized I still didn't have pants on as Brock came around my side of the truck. He must had seen my embarassment.

"I ain't looking." He said, keeping his eyes up.

I followed him quietly inside. We walked through the kitchen, and then into the living room, where I saw Kyra sleeping on the couch. I gasped.

"Brock!" I whisper-yelled. He turned around. "Why is she sleeping there? She's going to hurt her back!"

He walked up close to me so I could hear his whispers better. "She's does that. Even if I make her sleep upstairs she'll find her way down here. She's been different lately, Reba." He looked over to our sleeping daughter. "I just didn't think she'd do it tonight. When I left she was asleep in her bed." He walked over to her, and gently lifted her off of the couch. Kyra wasn't little anymore, and it suprised me how easily he held her. He walked with her upstairs, and I followed as he brought her into her room. He layed her on the bed, and pulled the covers across her. He didn't touch her, or kiss her, but he looked at her with eyes that only a father could have.

I let out a sound that sounded like a quick laugh as my heart was warmed by what I saw as I stood in the door way. Brock turned to me and smiled warmly. "C'mon." He said, and I followed him into the guest bedroom. "There's extra pillows and blankets in here," He patted the chest at the end of the bed, "and if you need anything, I'm in the next room."

"What are you going to tell the kids?" I sat on the suprisingly comfortable bed. "They can't know." I stated sternly.

"I'll just tell them that there were some crazy drunk fans around the property, so I told you that you could stay here to get away from them." He said understandingly.

I lifted the covers and slid my bare legs underneath. I was suprised to find Brock looking the other way. Any other man would have his eyes all over me. "Thank you Brock." I said, refering to so many different things.

"Of course." He said with a smile. "Do you want me to keep the bathroom light on?"

I chuckled. "No, I think I'll be alright."

"Okay, just checking." He said lightly. He walked to the door, and turned one last time. "Night, Reba." He said.

"Sweetdreams." I said, laying my head on the pillow and smiling. He returned the smile and closed the door softly. I sunk into the soft pillow and drifted off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Y'all don't get mad at me. Or Reba. She has her reasons. Anyways, sorry it's been so long! There's a bunch of emotion in this chapter. Please keep reading- I promise this depressing story ends good! I hope you like it! Leave a review, and thanks for everything! :) **

-Chapter 16-

I awoke to the sounds of pots and pans banging together downstairs. I rubbed my eyes as the scenes from last night replayed in my head.

"Jake, watch where you're going!" I heard Kyra yell.

"Make me!" I heard the pitter-patter of Jake's feet run out of the room.

I sat up slowly and looked around Brock's guest room. The curtains were closed, but still rays of sunlight shone through, illuminating the room. I pulled off the covers and slid out, landing on the ground on achy legs. Before I could even panic about not having clothes, I saw a nicely folded outfit of mine next to the bed. There was a pair of jeans, and a green designed long-sleeve shirt from my clothing line. I didn't question why they were there, but just threw them on. I walked downstairs without even bothering to comb out my hair, which was surely a mess.

"I don't know, Mr.H. I'm pretty sure that possum on the side of the road had an evil eye." I heard Van talking when I got downstairs. But when I walked into the kitchen, everyone stopped and stared at me.

"Mornin'..." I said.

"Wow, Mrs.H. You look like crap." Van stated.

Cheyenne gasped. "Shut up Van!" She hit him in the arm as I walked past them to sit down at the table. I sat across from Kyra, who was on her phone with an empty plate in front of her. Elizabeth was in her highchair, and I kissed her on the head when I passed her.

"Are y'all still cooking breakfast?" I asked, ignoring Van's comment.

"Um, mom, it's 2 in the afternoon. We're having a late lunch." Cheyenne looked concerned. "What time did you go to bed last night?"

It was 2 already?

I couldn't even think of the last time I had slept in that late. "I'm not sure." I dazed off, and then realized they were all watching me. "Sorry I'm not very talkative. I've just had a long night." I shrugged it off.

"Was it one of those crazy fans who try to break into your house and smell your hair while you sleep?" Kyra asked plainly. I looked at her confused until Brock, who had been silently cooking, butted in.

"I'm sure your mother doesn't want to talk about it. Give her some space." Just then I realized what they thought my reasoning was behind staying the night there.

"I was just wondering." Kyra mumbled and then got up to put her plate in the sink. Her phone made a noise, and she looked down at the screen. "Hey Dad, Jenna's mom is here. I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Love you." He put his arm out and gave her a side hug.

"Love you too." She said while grabbing her bags and walking out.

"Have fun, love you!" I said from the table. She looked at me and left without a word. I turned to find Brock staring at me. I worded _wow_, and then rolled my eyes as I looked out the window.

"Reba do you want lunch?" He asked to break the sad tension.

"Yes, please. Grilled cheese is fine." I stayed looking out the window, trying to convince myself not to be hurt by her.

"Hey me and Van are about to leave, too. We're meeting some friends for a movie and then dinner. We're taking Elizabeth." Cheyenne said, oblivious to what happened. I looked up at her, and then over to Brock when I noticed he wasn't responding. I found him still staring straight at me, the look of concern and care he had worn the last few weeks strong on his face. Wow, that man could read me.

"Okay, that's fine." He shook out of his trance and looked towards them. "Can you do me a favor and drop Jake off at his friend's house on the way?" He asked.

"I guess. But I thought you said he couldn't go earlier?" Cheyenne pointed out.

"Well I changed my mind. I'll go tell him right now." Brock left the room.

"Mom?" Cheyenne climbed off the barstool and came to sit next to me. "Dad has been acting weird." She said in a hushed voice. Van stayed at the counter, lost in a sports magazine.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he hasn't been drinking too much lately, but even when he's sober I can tell he's changed. He just seems so...empty." Cheyenne looked down. It broke my heart to see her worry. I reached out and held her hands tightly.

"I'm not really sure what's going on with your daddy." I said, honestly. "All I know is that we need to be there for him. He's a tough guy. He'll be okay." I said with a smile. She smiled back, but it dimmed quickly.

"Mom...You've been acting weird too." She added quietly, almost scared to say it. Van looked up when he heard what she had said, swallowed hard, and then looked back down at the magazine.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you just haven't been yourself. You've seemed so stressed, and out of it. You seem empty, too, Mom. Plus, you look like you've been through hell right now." She said.

"Well, I kinda have." I offered a laugh, and successfully lightened the mood. Cheyenne loosened a little. "I'm okay, too. I've just had a lot going on. But don't you worry about me, okay?" I squeezed her hands tighter. "I promise I'm alright."

She finally sighed. "Okay, Mom. Just let me know if you're ever not. You may not think so, but there's always something I can do to help. Unless it's menopause. I can't help you there." We giggled, and Van gagged in the background. Just then Jake came running out of the living room. He had a bag that had obviously been thrown together quickly, and clothes were falling out of the sides.

"Bye Mom, love you, see you later!" He didn't stop once as he sped out the door. "I'll be in the car!" He yelled to Cheyenne.

I hugged her tightly. "Y'all go have fun, okay?" I pulled back and smiled at her.

"Okay Mom, we will." I kissed Elizabeth goodbye before she pulled her out of her highchair. She handed her to Van and they walked out right about the same time Brock came in and pulled my grilled cheese off of the stove. He put it on a plate and brought it to me.

"Thank you, I was starving." I said as he sat a Coke next to my plate.

"When aren't you?" He asked, fighting back a laugh and preparing for me to slap him. I playfully hit his arm. He chuckled and sat across from me.

"Did you already eat?" I asked. He nodded.

"Cheyenne went by the house and brought you your clothes. Van drove your car back here so you can leave whenever you want."

"That was sweet of them." I continued to eat as he pulled out a golf magazine and began reading it.

It was quiet for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually nice. After I was done with my food, I stood up and sat my plate in the sink. "Thanks, again." I said with a smile.

"You're welcome." He said, looking up and returning my smile. He gazed towards the ground, and I watched as his smile slowly faded. "Reba, I need to talk to you."

I swallowed hard. "Okay."

"Can we go in the living room?" I nodded and followed him, scared of what we were going to talk about. He let me sit on the couch first, and then sat on the other end. He grabbed my phone, which had somehow ended up on his coffee table, and handed it to me. I looked at him confused, and he motioned to the screen. I clicked it on, and the my breath caught in my throat.

Last week, I had finally decided to save John's number, which was a stupid move of mine. The little screen in my shaking hand showed 37 missed calls from John. I stared at it, not knowing what to say.

"I wish I had seen your phone when he was calling. I would have loved to answer and give him a piece of my mind." He said, looking off.

"I'm glad you didn't." I said emotionless. I looked at the phone one last time, and then set it down, trying to stay calm and not think about what was happening.

"I know what's going on." Chills went through my body.

"What, then?" I asked.

He flinched, and then looked down as if thinking about it hurt him. He took a long, deep breath. "You're scared of him." He said in a drained voice. It was somewhere between a question and a statement. He looked up at me and I turned away quickly. "You've never been scared of anyone, Reba." He stated, waiting for a response. I didn't give one. He took another breath. "What is he doing to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I said.

He sighed, and rubbed his head. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, that makes two of us." I added sharply. He looked down sadly and I softened a little. "I... I can't talk about it, Brock."

He looked up slowly at me, and then scooted closer. "Why not?"

"I just can't." I tried to make it sound like a simple answer.

He placed his hand on my arm. "Reba, please tell me." He begged in such a quiet voice.

"I can't." I said softly as I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

He scooted forwards and wiped it off with his finger. "Please. Don't keep this to yourself. It'll kill you." He almost whispered. "Let me protect you."

Another tear fell as I looked down, still feeling his eyes on my face. "Brock," I took a deep breath. "If I tell you, you can't do anything stupid."

He thought for a second. "Okay."

"I mean it. If I pour out my heart to you right now, I'll be telling you things that I've never told anyone else before. Awful things. Things that I'm ashamed of. And some things that I know will make you mad. But you have to promise me that you'll just take it, and not do anything about it. If you can't promise that, tell me now. Because I can't tell you if you can't." I looked at him. I could tell he was thinking hard. Finally, he carefully spoke.

"Okay...Fine."

"It will probably take a long, long time if you want to hear everything."

"We've got all day." He repositioned himself to get comfortable. I did the same.

I collected myself, and then looked up at him, "Well, it all started when I went to Roy's one night..."

It took two hours to get it all out. I told him about the men who almost beat me, which made him mad, and then I told him about the first time John beat me, which made him even madder. I had to stop so many times to calm him down that I stopped counting.

Somehow, I ended up telling Brock every single detail, which I hadn't planned on doing. I told him about the forced sex, and the cigarettes and the drugs I had seen him do. I told him how the bruise on my face from 'set pieces falling on me' was really from John, and he looked away. I knew he was fighting back tears. I told the story of him and his sick sexual ways, including the time he asked me to kiss a girl in front of him. I could tell Brock didn't know what to do as he clinched his fists and turned the other way. At one point, he even punched the pillow in his rage, saying that he would kill him as soon as he could. Besides stopping to calm him down, I also stopped to sob several times. I cried into his shirt most of the time, feeling so relieved to let my story out. I cried over my cuts and bruises, over my broken heart, and over my lost dignity. I told him how ashamed I was of myself, and he pulled me off and looked into my eyes.

"Don't ever think any of this was your fault."

"But Brock-"

"He's an awful man." He cut me off. "He did all of this, and none of it was your fault. You were practically defenseless, Reba! Don't blame yourself for this." I nodded, and sniffled as he wiped away another tear.

I finally told him about how I got away from John, and caught him up with where I was now. I also told him about what John had told me- how if I told he'd come after my family. The one thing I avoided telling him was that John had came after me before. He asked if John knew where I lived, and I reassured him that he didn't, and that I wouldn't be in any danger at home. I told him I just didn't want to be alone the night before. I knew that if I told him John would come to the house, he wouldn't let me be alone. He would stake out at the house and wait for him. And after what he said about my family, I couldn't risk John knowing Brock knew.

When I finally stopped talking, Brock took a hard breath, trying to calm himself.

"Let me take care of him." He said through clinched teeth.

"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid. There's too much to risk." I said sharply.

"No, Reba." He stood up quickly. "I'll be damned if he gets away with this." His voice was rising.

"Brock, you promised me!"

"I can't just let him get away with this!" He looked at me like I was insane. "Gosh, I wish I had known from the beginning. None of this would have ever happened!"

"None of this would have ever happened? None of this would have ever happened if you hadn't gone off and left me the way you did!" I jumped up, suddenly, unexplainably furious. Brock looked at me, stunned.

"What?" Brock stuttered.

"You wanna know why I went to that bar in the first place, Brock?" My voice rose as I walked towards him. "Because I felt useless! I felt used. Do you know how long it had been since you made me feel special? Or since you made me feel pretty?" Tears swelled in my eyes. "I wanted to feel that, Brock! I _needed_ it! No matter the cost, I wanted to feel like someone wanted me. I wanted to feel... I wanted to feel..." I looked around, not knowing what I wanted. "I wanted to feel something. Anything! You left me numb, Brock!"

"Hey-" He walked towards me and I held my hand out making him stop.

"Do you know how much I loved you?" The room got so quiet it felt as if the silence filled me, making my head tingle. Brock stood there, with a white face, completely speechless. "I would have given anything for you. I would have given my life for you. And then, right when I needed you most...You left."

He slowly walked towards me and held out his arms. I didn't move. He let his arms fall to his side, but continued to walk towards me. When he came close enough, he held out his hand and stroked my cheek.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, focusing on every detail of my face. He turned his hand and cupped my face. And suddenly, I found it.

I found what I had wanted to feel that night. I wanted to feel love. But yet, I went looking in the wrong direction. An overwhelming feeling entered my heart as I looked into his eyes. But just as soon as it came, it left, and was replaced with anger. Insane, unexplainable anger. I jerked back, not wanting to fall for what was happening between us.

"Why don't you just leave me alone, Brock?" For some reason, I started screaming. All of the pain, anxiety, and fear of what was to come was weighing down on me, and I felt it all coming out at one time. I couldn't control myself. "Why do you think you can do what you've done to me, and then just jump in and save the day? You know what you're doing to me? You're making me want this-making me want us!" I started to tear up through my screams. He tried to come towards me, but I pushed him back. "Brock, no! This is exactly what I'm talking about! Do you know how hard it is to want to feel the way you make me feel, but know that I can't? Or how hard it is to be beaten and used, and then feel the way you act like you care? When in the back of my mind I know it won't last?" I was trying to breathe and figure out what I was saying at the same time. "I just need to be alone." I turned around and started towards the door. Brock ran up behind me and grabbed me, trying to stop me. But in the moment, feeling his hands on me as I was trying to get away, made fear take over me. I screamed, and turned and slapped him hard on the face. He stumbled back, and I put my hand over my mouth, coming out of my rage and realizing what I had done.

"I'm so sorry." I jumped towards him, and moved his hand, which was on his cheek. It was already pink, and I rubbed my hand over where I had hit. "I just got scared."

"You know I would never lay a hand on you." He said, reassuring and hurt at the same time. I rubbed his cheek one last time, and then let my hand fall as I turned towards the door. I began to walk out, and he was silent as I did so. Right as I was shutting the door behind me, he came quickly to the door, as if he had been building up courage the whole time.

"Reba, wait!" I faced him. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

I took a slow breath. "Because, Brock. You promised you would protect me before. I relied on that- I depended on that. I depended on you. So when you suddenly gave up on me, I was left alone, without an idea of how to keep myself safe. I went crazy. And now, I'm just figuring out how to be strong on my own, without you here. If I gave in to you now, the minute John was out of the picture you'd be gone and I'd be alone and dependent again, not knowing what to do. I can't put myself through that again." I turned to go, but he stopped me again.

"But, Reba," He started, obviously not knowing how to express what he felt. "I wouldn't leave after John was gone. I wouldn't want to. I never wanted to." I stared at him for a second, not knowing what to say. Finally, I spoke in a dry voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you honestly think I wanted to leave you? Reba, we had something beautiful. I know you know that just as much as I do. But one day, I was overwhelmed. We had been fighting, and you suddenly left for Broadway, without even saying goodbye. We didn't even get to talk it over. I felt like a failure. I felt like I had hurt you. And I didn't know how to handle those feelings. So, I did something stupid. You can relate to that, right?" Just like Barbara Jean had done, he was comparing his situation to mine. But ours were actually quite different. I let him speak anyways. "The morning after, I felt awful. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to give us up. I was supposed to be there for you, and I failed. I know that. But,'' He took a step forward, "I want to make things right. Reba, please let me be there for you." I saw his hands shaking. I knew it took a lot of courage for him to say this to me. But still, I couldn't figure out exactly what he was trying to say.

"What are you asking from me?" I asked stupidly, so overwhelmed with everything that was happening at once.

"I'm asking-" He stopped and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm asking for another chance. For _us_." He said, finally looking deep into my eyes.

My chest tightened and I felt as if the world had stood still. Was he really asking this from me? Yes, he was. And I wanted to say yes. I wanted to so bad. But, I couldn't. Not after what he'd done.

"You had your chance." I said coldly, and then walked away.

He didn't stop me as I got in my car and drove away. He didn't see me as I sat behind the wheel, trying to see straight as I cried harder than I ever had before. He didn't see me as I cursed at the air and pounded my fist into the steering wheel. He didn't see me as I walked into my house and crashed on my couch, trying to make sense of everything.

I never looked back. I didn't see him walk inside, locking the door behind him. I didn't see him fall against the wall, crying like a little boy. I didn't see him pull out a bottle of Vodka and down it in 20 minutes. I didn't see him reach for more after that. I didn't see him stumbled to the living room when he heard my phone ringing on the table. I didn't hear him curse as he saw John's name. I didn't hear the anger in his voice when he answered.


	17. Chapter 17

*** It's 2 o'clock in the morning, so my grammar may be a little off.

But anyways, sorry it's been so long! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, though. I may or may not have cried while writing it.

Thanks for all of the reads and reviews! Please let me know what you think! :) ***

-Chapter 17-

_Just breathe. In and out. Stay calm_. I whispered to myself as I walked up the steps behind the stage. I heard the crowd roaring as an overhead voice was introducing me.

"Sorry about the wait, folks. But now," _Breathe, Reba. "_Ladies and gentlemen," _These people payed to see you strong, not weak_. "The lady you've all been waiting for," _Get him off of your mind. _"Country music's finest," _Get each of them off of your mind. _"Miss Reba Mcentire!" _Don't think. Go out there. Rock it._

Lyrics about raidos, Chevy trucks, and romeos seemed blurry to me as I did my opening performance. The screaming crowd that usually had me speechless hardly fazed me. My mind was on other things.

When I had gotten home, I layed on the couch for a while, processing every single word that had been said minutes before at Brock's house. His voice was running through my head, driving me insane. I was burrying my face in the throw pillow when I heard the house phone ring. I sat up quickly.

Slowly, I walked into the kitchen, and pulled the phone to my ear. "H-hello?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Hey Reba! Where the heck are you?" I was relieved to hear the peppy voice of my hair stylist at the other end of the line.

"Oh hey, Brett. Uh, I'm at home. Why?" It was still difficult to speak, but I was trying my hardest.

"At home? Reba, do you realize we have a show to put on at 5? You better get your butt up here!" I gasped. I had totally forgotten about my concert downtown.

"Oh, yes, I totally forgot!" I looked at the clock, suprised to read 4:15. I really had spent a couple hours telling my story at Brock's. "Um, I'll be right there! Get my outfit ready. My hair and makeup is an absolute mess," I said, looking at my refelction in the stove door, "So go ahead and heat up the straightener and lay out my makeup. I want my hair straight, and which ever way you can get my makeup done the quickest." I said as I stumbled through the living room with the phone held between my shoulder and my ear. I rushed to find my cell phone, but after a quick look-around, I decided I had left it at Brock's, and told myself I'd get it later.

"Okay, Reba. I'll tell everyone to go ahead and get ready for sound check. It should take you 15 minutes to get here from your house. You'll be on a little bit late, but at least you'll be on!" He said in a cheerful voice. I chuckled. "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little shocked, Red. You never forget about a concert. What's gotten into you?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just a little busy today, that's all. I'm on my way now, though!" I said quickly. I hung up and threw the phone on the couch. I ran out of the door and jumped in the car.

I was thankful my show tonight was just downtown, or else there's no way I could have made it. It really was a coincedence, though. Ususally, my shows are out of state, and I have to fly to them. Having one just 15 minutes away was nothing short of a blessing.

I sped most of the way, and took a few backroads, pulling up to my private enterance in 10 minutes, while sighing at how lucky I was to have made it. Missing a show was something I've never done, and something I never plan on doing.

My escorts and body guard were waiting on me. When I stepped out of my car, they looked at me funny for a minute, and then had faces of steel as they brought me in through a small door in the back. Once in, I assured the men that I knew my way. I had played here many times before.

I practically ran to the dressing room. There I found Brett, who had done exaclty what I asked him to. As soon as he saw me, he pulled out a high chair and patted it impatiently. I jumped up onto it as he combed through my hair. He worked silently, until he finally looked up into the mirror and saw my face.

"Oh my goodness, girl! What got ahold of you?" I looked at my reflection. There were bags under my eyes, along with puffyness from crying. My cheeks were red, and mascara was smeared around the corners of my eyes. I offered a weak smile.

"I know, I'm a mess. It's just been a hard day." Brett could tell I didn't want to talk about it, so he just nodded and continued with my hair.

Suprisingly, after finishing my hair, doing my makeup, and throwing on my outfit, I was only a few minutes late to the stage. But my anxiety was getting the best of me, and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. As Turn on Your Radio came to an end, and the waves of people began screaming and clapping, I could feel my knees shaking. Everything that Brock had said, along with the fact that John was probably trying to find me right now, was weighing down on my mind. I tried to focus on other things, but it wasn't working. Was Brock being honest? Does he really want to try again? And with John... I knew he'd find me. One way or another, he'd find me. And the question of what he'd do to me once he did made me sick to my stomach. The fact that the building was surrounded by big lit up signs reading 'Reba McEntire in concert' didn't calm my nerves any. He could find me here if he looked hard enough, that I was sure of. And even if he didn't, there's no doubt in my mind he'd be waiting on me when I got home. Unless I went to Brock's. But I couldn't do that again. Could I?

The slow guitar intro to And Still came on, and I was brought out of my thoughts. I pulled up a stool from up-stage and sat down, staring at the faces around me while listening to the soft music. As soon as it was time, I began the familiar beginning to the song, while admiring how quiet the crowd had gotten. I looked around and saw people singing with me, but it seemed that only their mouths were moving, and no sound was coming out.

When the chorus came up, I unexpectedly found my throat growing dry as I sang the words. "And still, my world stood still. I couldn't move, and all I could feel was this aching in my heart, saying I loved him...still." I tried to not think about what I was singing, but it seemed impossible. The lyrics hit me hard, in a way they never had before. When the second chorus came around, I was misty-eyed and my voice was shaking. "I couldn't move, and all I could feel was this aching in my heart..." I looked down and rested the microphone on my lap, unable to finish. The crowd understood, and clapped as the band slowly stopped. I smiled, so relieved and so in love with the people around me. People I didn't even know, and yet they understood. I guess that's just the power of music.

I smiled and wiped my eyes as the crowd continued to cheer me on. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my guitarist off stage, talking to a lady with a headset. He looked over at me, and then quickly jogged to where I was on stage.

"Hey," He said in a hushed voice. I could tell he felt uncomfortable talking to me while surrounded by thousands of screaming people. "They need you offstage. We're going to play some and keep the audience entertained. You need to hurry, though. I think it's important." He said, obviously stressed about it just as much as I was. I had never been called off stage during a performance. I looked at him confused and startled. The crowd was beginning to quiet down, and I knew they were wondering what was going on.

"Can't it wait?" I said, faking a smile and carefree face so they wouldn't worry. He didn't bother to do the same. His face was clearly concerned.

"No, I don't think so."

"Um, okay." I pulled the microphone to my mouth and smiled big at the audience. "Well y'all, I need to run back stage for just a second. But don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging! My amazing band is going to play some for you. Let's give them a round of applause!" The crowd exploded again as I smiled and hustled off stage. The lady was waiting, and as soon as I reached her she grabbed me by the arm and pulled my into a sound-proof room to block out the noice. She handed me a phone, which I hadn't noticed she had been holding until now.

"It's your daughter. I wouldn't have interupted you, but I think you need to talk to her." She said, and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I brought the phone to my ear, panic rising in my chest.

"Hello?"

"Mom?" I could hardly make out Cheyenne's voice. "Oh mom, it's ...it's bad!" She was sobbing. I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Cheyenne, honey, what's wrong?" I asked frantically.

"Mom- Dad- His truck-" She wasn't making any sense. My anxiety was growing quickly, and my breathing increased as I tried to figure out what she was saying.

"I can't understand you, baby. Take a deep breath!" I heard her breathe in deeply. "Now, tell me what's going on!"

She took a few quick breaths before speaking. "Dad, he was, he was in an accident mom." She began crying again.

"An accident? What do you mean an accident? Is he okay?" She didn't respond, but continued sobbing into the phone. "Hand the phone to Van. I need to know what's going on." I heard commotion on the other end, and after a few seconds I heard Van's voice.

"Hello?" Although he wasn't crying, I could tell by his voice that something was wrong.

"Van, tell me what's going on." I said quickly.

"Mr.H. He was in an accident. The hospital just called Cheyenne. His truck was found around Charle's Rest Stop. Apparently he ran off of the road and hit a tree head-on." I covered my mouth with a shaky hand, not knowing how to handle what I had just heard. I couldn't speak. Suddenly Van spoke quietly, and I knew he didn't want Cheyenne to hear. "His blood alcohol levels were extremely high."

"What hospital?" Was all I could get out. My throat was dry and I felt the small room closing in on me.

"St. Thomas. We're on our way now. Kyra is watching Jake and Elizabeth. Cheyenne is a mess."

"Is he okay?" I wanted to scream it. I wanted to drop to my knees and pray he was. But instead, I stood there on shaky legs, not ready for the answer. After several long, painful seconds, Van spoke.

"We don't know. They're not saying." His voice cracked.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. "I-I'm on my way." Was all I managed before hanging up, not waiting for his responce. I backed up until I felt my back hit the wall, and then slowly sunk down against it, my hand over my mouth to keep from crying. I thought back to sitting at his kitchen table earlier that day. I thought of his face as he looked through his golf magazene, so unaware of what was to come. My heart broke into a million pieces. The pain was almost unbarable.

Finally when I could get myself together, I stood slowly and walked out of the room. The lady with the head set was sitting in a chair by the door. She looked at me and stood, her face almost showing that she knew what was going on.

"I have to go." I said sternly.

"Y-yes ma'am." She said in a quiet voice.

Without even acknoledging the screaming audience in the background, I rushed towards the exit at the back of the building. As I was leaving, my manager saw me and ran towards me, looking as if I were a ghost.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled.

"I have to go." I repeated in the same stern voice I had used earlier.

"No, last time I checked you can't just leave, Reba. Now get out there and keep singing! Do you know how much money we're making off of this gig? There's nothing that could be going on that's worth losing it."

"You have no idea." I said, fighting back tears. "I'm leaving." I started walking again, but he stopped me.

"Reba you can't do this! You can't just leave!" He was getting angry. I explained to him what had happened the best I could, and failed at holding back my tears. As soon as he saw the first one fall, he knew this was serious. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Fine, fine. I guess we'll have to figure out some way to do a refund. I'll send someone out there to tell them-"

"Okay, thank you." I rushed out the door and got into my car without looking back. I pulled out of my private parking area and onto the highway, typing in the adress of St. Thomas Hospital.

The guilt of leaving my fans was huge, but it seemed small compared to everything else I was feeling. I wanted to see Brock. No, I needed to. I pressed down hard on the pedal, and clinched the steering wheel tighter.

20 minutes later I pulled into the hospital parking lot. I parked sideways and hopped out of the car. I tripped once on the heel of my boots while running through the parking lot, but quickly regained my balance and continued running.

The doors slid open, and I could smell the typical smell of a hospital as the white floors and walls made me squint. I rushed in and up to the front desk. I head a few gasps when people saw me, but ignored it. I placed my hands hard on the desk, causing the woman doing paper work to look up quickly. When she saw me, her eyes grew wide.

"You're Re-"

"I know who I am!" I snapped. "I need to see Brock Hart. Now, please." She looked at me, stunned for a few minutes, and then looked on her computer.

"Fourth floor, room 207." She said without looking back up at me. I knew she was offended becuase I had snapped at her, and I promised myself that I'd come down and apologize to her later. But now wasn't the time.

I rushed to the elevator, pressed the botton, and waiting impatiently for the 'ding'. When I finally heard it, I squeezed myself in before the elevator could even fully open. I pressed the button with the 4 on it, and then leaned against the wall, trying to see straight.

The three other people in the elevator stared at me the whole ride up. I was so out of it that I didn't realize until the door had opened. I looked breifely at them before walking out, and found three white faces with wide eyes staring at me. Whether it was my all black, rhinestoned outfit, or the fact that I'm sometimes on the raido, I'm not sure. But none of them said a word. They all just stared. I awkwardly turned away and hopped out of the elevator.

As the door was closing, I offered the best smile I could and waved at them. All three of them were immediatley brought out of their trance and began waving back franticly, big smiles plastered across thier faces.

As soon as the door closed, I turned on my heel and began running, looking at the numbers on the side of the doors as I went. _204, 205, 206... _When I reached 207, I stopped and stared. The door was the only one on the floor that was closed all the way. There were a few chairs outside of it, and on one of them sat Cheyenne's purse. I knew her and Van were either in the room with Brock or off somewhere in the hospital. Either way, she shouldn't have left her purse out in the open. I picked it up, and reminded myslef to get on to her for that later.

I stood outside the room for what seemed like forever. Finally, I built up the courage to go in. I pushed the door open slowly, and then I saw him.

He was propped up against a mound of pillows on the bed. His face was leaned back and his eyes shut. It caught me by suprise how pale he looked. I slowly walked in, shutting the door behind me.

The closer I got, the more details I noticed- The cuts on his hands, the bruise on the side of his face and the one peeking behind his gown on his chest, and the dark circles under his eyes. His chest rose and fell heavily, and he weezed as he breathed. I pulled up a chair next to his bed, and sat down. I stared at him harder than I had ever stared at anyone before. I looked at every detail of his worn face. Bringing my hand up slowly, I traced the bruise on his cheek, remembering how I had slapped him earlier. It tore at my heart knowing what I had done.

Seeing him like this killed me. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes as I layed my head in my hands. I tried to quiet my sobs, but it didn't work. Just the thought of him hurt was enough to break me. No matter what has happened, part of him is still my Brock. I wondered why he had done what he had done. I wondered why I felt like I was a big part of it. I wondered why I had been guarding myself around him so much lately. All of these thought and emotions, mixed with the fact that he may not be okay, was pushing me over the edge. My heart ached as I sobbed into my shaking hands. I began praying somewhere in the back part of my mind. I was praying for some kind of miracle. I wanted with all of my heart to know that he was okay. As much as I hated to admit it, I could't lose him. I needed him. With every part of me, I needed him.

And then, suddenly, I heard a small, tired voice.

"Hey, don't cry." I looked up, and Brock was staring down at me. His eyes looked deep into mine, and I felt as if he could see everything I was feeling. He slowly pulled up his hand. I know it was painful for him by the way he was struggling.

"Brock-" I tried to stop him but he shook his head.

When he finally lifted his arm enough, he brought it to my face. I stayed frozen as he used every ounce of strength he had to wipe away my tears. His eyes softened and watered as he stared at me. For the first time in a long time, I didn't look away. I allowed him to look at me, and didn't move his hand as he cupped the side of my face and traced his thumb across my cheek bone. He moved his mouth some, trying to gather the strength to speak. And then, in the quietest, sadest voice I had ever heard, he spoke.

"I love you, Reba."

And still... My world stood still.


	18. Chapter 18

-Chapter 18-

How I truly felt for Brock has been something I've been confused about for the past 6 years. Did I love him? Yes, of course. No matter how we ended, I spent the best years of my life with that man. He is the father of my children. For those reasons alone, I had to love him. But did my love go beyond that? Was there a deeper love somewhere inside of me that I felt for him? I could never find out, because every time my mind wondered to those questions, I forced the thought away. After what he'd done, feelings like that seemed outrageous. But now, after looking into his eyes and hearing the sadness in his voice, those feelings for him didn't seem so unbelievable after all.

Right as I was opening my mouth to respond, although I still had no clue what I was going to say, the door opened and Cheyenne popped in.

"Oh mom!" She yelled, and rushed towards me. She wrapped her arms around me as I looked back at Brock. He stared at me the same way, as if he didn't even see Cheyenne. "I'm so glad you're here!" She said pulling off and wiping another tear from her face. Van had come in behind her, and was now sitting on the end of the bed. Cheyenne's eyes grew wide when she looked at Brock. "Dad, you're awake!" She pushed past me and put her arms around him. He grunted, and winced in pain.

"Cheyenne, honey, give your father some space." I said. She pulled off and kissed him on the forehead.

"Sorry, dad." She chuckled through her tears. She turned and looked at me. "Mom, can we talk outside?"

I nodded and followed her out the door. She closed it behind us, and took a seat on one of the chairs. I sat down on the other.

"Ma, I'm scared." She looked at me with big, tear filled eyes.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because! Don't you see what's going on?" She stood up and threw her hands in the air. "Before we know it, dad is going to take it too far!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"He was drinking and driving, mom! He's been so different lately-Can't you tell? In there, he is so out of it that he can't even speak! He's trying to drink his troubles away. But what's he going to do when that doesn't work anymore?" She looked at me dead in the eyes, and I was surprised at how much of Brock I saw in her.

"I... I don't know." I answered honestly, looking down.

"I just want him to be happy." She said quietly, and then sat back down next to me. I reached over and held her hand in between mine as we sat in silence.

"I do too, baby." I whispered long after the conversation seemed to be over.

Van walked out of the hospital room slowly. He stopped when he saw Cheyenne leaning on my shoulder, her hand still in mine. He cleared his throat, and she sat up wearily and stared at him.

"Mrs.H, do you want us to pick up the kids? I feel like they should see Mr.H." It surprised me how serious Van was being. He was never like this- not even at funerals. He's always been the big goof-ball that everyone secretly loves.

"You don't think it's too soon?" I responded.

"No, I think they'd like to see him. Just so they know he's okay." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, sounds like a good idea. But I thought they were at friends houses?"

"When I heard about Mr.H, I called and said they may want to come home. I just thought you would want them home. At the time, we had no idea if he was okay or not." He said bashfully. "I guess we still don't." He added quietly, and the three of us sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, I spoke.

"Yes, go ahead and get them. Just prepare them before they see him, okay?"

"Okay,'' He nodded his head. "Cheyenne, do you want to go with me?"

Cheyenne nodded and stood up slowly. I stood after her and hugged her tightly. "Be safe." I kissed her on the cheek as they walked off. I stared at Van, still in shock at how in control he seemed. I knew deep down it was a blessing that Cheyenne found him. She needs someone who could keep it together for her. Don't we all?

Right as they were about to turn the corner, Van turned too sharp and ran face-first into the wall, reminding me that he was still Van. He shook his head, and then turned and gave me a thumbs up before walking away.

I was still looking at the corner when a lady's deep voice filled my head. I turned around quickly to see a nurse standing behind me.

"Excuse me?"

"I was just saying how amazing it is to meet you!" She said with wide eyes.

"Oh, well thank you." I blushed. Comments like that always made me uncomfortable. I'm just the same as everyone else. "Do you know anything about my ex-husband? Brock Hart." I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh yes!" She flipped through her clipboard quickly. "Well, -"

"You can call me Reba."

"Well Reba," She looked up smiling, and giggled like a school girl. "You'll be relieved to know that he's just fine." Relief rushed over my body. "Just a few cuts and bruises, plus a minor concussion. Of course, as you know, his blood alcohol levels were _very _high. We're very thankful that his situation wasn't any worse. Our only concern is his lack of communication and movement. Since he's been here, he hasn't spoken a word.'' She leaned in and whispered, "Not even to your children! But, that is most likely because of the concussion and the medication we've put him on. Have you seen him yet?"

"Only a little. I was going to go visit with him now, though."

"Okay. Just don't be offended if he doesn't respond in any way. We are keeping him for overnight to run more test and make sure there are no other issues. Surely by tomorrow he'll be talking again." She said with a smile.

"Okay, thank you. It was nice meeting you." We exchanged smiles as I turned and headed back into Brock's room, closing the door behind me. What she had said was running through my mind. He hadn't been talking or moving? I could tell it was hard for him to work up the strength to wipe my tears, and say that he loved me. But just how hard was it? He couldn't even speak to Cheyenne. And yet, somehow he found a way to talk to me.

I sat down in my original chair by the bed. I grabbed his calloused hand and gently rubbed it between mine. I rocked back and forth slowly, listening to his heart beat, massaging his hand, and staring at him deeply. His eyes were shut and his mouth formed a straight line. He was still breathing heavy like before, and he looked about 10 years older than he actually was.

Without thinking, or even realizing what I was saying or why, I began speaking to him.

"Why did you do this?" I questioned him softly. "You scared me so bad." I gripped his hand tighter. "You don't deserve what you're doing to yourself, Brock." He moved his mouth, and then slowly nodded his head. I scooted closer, realizing he could hear what I was saying. "You don't deserve what you're doing." I repeated, more sternly. Again, he nodded his head. "Why do you think you do?" He started moving his mouth again. I wasn't sure if I should stop him, or let him speak. I decided to just stay quiet, and see what he could do.

"I hurt you." He mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. Realizing that I had something to do with what was happening to him, my heart started to beat faster.

"Honey, no." I sat on the edge of my seat and smoothed down his hair with my hand. "That's in the past. We're over it. Everything is okay now." I forced a light tone to my voice.

"No."

"Yes." Although his eyes were closed, I looked at him intensely, wishing I knew everything that was going on in his mind. Finally, I decided to ask him something I had been meaning to ask him since I first saw him. "Brock, why did you drive? Why did you get behind the wheel if you knew the state you were in?" He was still a second, and at first I thought he hadn't heard me. But finally, he spoke slowly again.

"He called your cell. He told me," He cut off, and breathed deeply for a few minutes, trying to regain his strength. I continued to rub his hand, encouraging him to take his time. "He told me he would be coming after you tonight. I had to stop him. I knew he lived somewhere close to Charles' since you walked there from his house. I knew I could find my way..." It didn't sound like his sentence was over, but he trailed off anyways.

I tried to figure out what to ask next. I wanted to know everything about what had happened. My voice was shaky when I spoke. "What were you going to do?"

He breathed a sharp breath. "Whatever it took."

"Brock, you could have killed yourself. Do you realize that?" He shook his head slowly. Tears came to my eyes. "How could you let this happen, then?"

He sat there silently. Just as I was about to give up on his answer, he opened his mouth, trying to speak. "I-I went there to protect you. My plan was to take care of him for good. And after that was done, I wouldn't care what happened to me next. If it meant taking my life, then so be it." I felt like I had been punched in the stomach by his words. "I just didn't think anything would happen _before _I got ahold of him. I should have been more careful. At least, until after I took care of him."

"Your plan was to kill him?" I asked, clutching his hand so tight I knew it must have hurt him, although he didn't show it.

"I guess it was."

"And then..." Tears fell down my cheeks freely now.

"And then, I wouldn't care what happened to me next." He repeated.

"You could have died."

"I knew that from the beginning."

I closed my eyes tightly in an attempt to stop my tears, but it didn't work. They escaped my eyes in a rapid flow, and without thinking or saying another word, I eased myself onto the bed next to him and buried my face into his neck. He reached his weak arm around me and held me close to him.

"Promise me you'll never think like that again." I sobbed. He didn't respond, but instead held me tighter. He pressed his lips against my forehead over my bangs, and held them there while rubbing my hair. He pulled off, and then rested his head on mine. I listened to the sound of his deep, echoing heart beat.

"Brock?" I whispered up to him in a cracked, weak voice.

"Yes?"

"I love you too."


	19. Chapter 19

***It's been so long, and I'm extremely sorry! I've had a lot going on. But thank you all for continuing to read! I promise this story is going somewhere. I'm going to work on writing more, and quicker! This chapter is going to be pretty short, but please leave a review and let me know what you think anyways! Also, you may want to re-read the last chapter before you read this. Just so you know what's going on. Thanks again y'all! ***

-Chapter 19-

My eyes were just about to close when I heard Kyra's voice from outside of the room.

"Jake, shut up!"

I slowly pulled myself away from Brock and sat on the bed. His eyes were still closed, but his arms had released his grip on me and were now at his sides. He sighed, and I knew he was sad I had gotten up.

Jake pushed through the door, and immediately ran to the bed when he saw Brock. Kyra came in slowly behind him, followed by Cheyenne who was still crying, and then Van, who looked at me questionably when he saw me sitting on the bed so close to Brock. He was the only one who seemed to notice.

"Is he okay?" Jake asked. I looked over to find a worried look stretched across his face.

"Yes, he'll be fine. He may not be very talkative right now, but he'll be okay." I smiled as the worried look eased away him. I scooted off of the bed and back into my chair. Jake leaned over and hugged Brock gently.

"It's okay if you can't talk much, Dad. I understand." Brock managed a slight smile, and my heart seemed to melt. Jake looked up at me. "There's a gift shop down the hall. Can I go check it out?"

I couldn't help but giggle. "Yes, I guess so. Be careful. Straight there and straight back, okay?"

"Okay!" He practically bounced out of the room. How one kid could be so energetic, I'll never know.

I turned to face Kyra, who was standing by the door. Her arms were crossed and her face was unreadable.

"Kyra, are you going to come over here?" I asked gently.

"I don't see why I would. There's no use. He can't even talk." She said bluntly.

"Kyra, what's wrong with you?" Cheyenne started through tears. "He's our dad! Do you not see what's happened-"

I cut her off. "Cheyenne." I turned my glance back to Kyra. "It would mean a lot if you'd at least hug him."

She hesitated, and then trudged forwards. When she reached him, she leaned down and briefly rested her arms around him. It was hardly even a hug. Afterwards, she walked back to her original position and sulked by the door. Cheyenne mumbled under her breath.

There was an awkward silence in the room. Kyra seemed as if she wasn't even there. Cheyenne sat down and started crying again, although no one knew exactly why. Van sat beside her and looked down at his shoes. In the silence, I turned and looked back over at Brock. As if it were a natural instinct, I reached out and held his hand in my left hand, while stroking it with my right. For the longest time, nothing was heard except the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the machines. At one point I turned to check on Cheyenne, and found Van staring at me the same way as before. He looked down at our hands, and then back up to my face, as if he knew what each of us were feeling. I pretended not to notice, and continued to rub Brock's hand, squeezing it every few minutes, and wondering if he felt it. Suddenly, though, the tranquil mood of the room was disrupted. Without warning, the door slammed open, and Barbra Jean barged in.

"Reba!" She yelled through her tears as she run forward and awkwardly embraced me, almost sitting in my lap. She cried onto my shoulder as I rolled my eyes. Finally, I shoved her off.

"Barbra Jean, get off."

She stood and wiped her eyes. She looked over at Brock sympathetically and then back at me, as if I was really the one in pain.

"How are you doing?" She asked, kneeling besides me and taking my hand in hers. I yanked it back.

"I'm alright. How are you?" I asked sternly.

"I'm not good at all. This is awful, Reba. Just awful." She stood again and began pacing the room. "Have you heard from the doctors? What's going on?"

"They are going to take a few more tests, so they have to keep him overnight. He should be out tomorrow. He'll be fine."

"Well, that's good. But I'm more worried about you."

"Me?" I asked.

"Yes, you! I know Brock will be okay. But what about your fragile heart?" She said, tears making her voice sound weird. The cheesiness of what she said made me chuckle. But she was dead serious. Somehow, that comment even made Cheyenne start crying again. As soon as she did, Barbra Jean rushed to the other side of her and pulled her close. They each sobbed as me and Van stared at each other awkwardly.

"Why are y'all crying?" I asked as gently as I could.

"B-because, you don't need this!" Barbra Jean said through her sobs.

"Don't need what?"

"Don't need this, mom!" Cheyenne said, as if that answered my question anymore that what Barbra Jean had said. I stared at her confused until she continued. "You've had enough going on. No matter how hard you try to hide it, we can all tell!" My breath caught in my throat. "Now you're going to have to worry about dad on top of everything else. I know you care about him mom! It's been so obvious these last few weeks! I can't even imagine how hard this is on you!" She started crying again. I walked over to them. I grabbed Van by the collar and practically threw him off of the couch before sitting beside Cheyenne.

"Hey, I'll be okay. You're not supposed to worry about me." I said in my motherly voice. Both of them continued to cry. I sighed, and then while looking up, noticed how Kyra had turned her head the other way. "Kyra?" When she wouldn't look at me, I knew what was going on. "Kyra, baby, come here." She put her face in her hands and ran towards me, trying to hide the tears she had been holding. There was no room on the couch, so I pulled her onto my lap. I'm sure it looked funny, considering she was about my size, but at the moment I didn't care. I pulled her face against my chest and rocked with her like I did when she was a baby. "It's okay." I hummed.

"No it's not." She cried into me. Cheyenne and Barbra Jean continued to cry next to me. Suddenly, Jake rushed in the door, smacking Van with it.

"Mom can I have some mon-"He stopped when he saw us. "Um, never mind." He turned to Van, who was rubbing his head where the door hit him. "Van, can I have some money? There's a really cool toy gun at the gift shop." He asked quietly, trying not to kill the mood.

"Yeah!" Van said, forgetting about his head and reaching for his wallet. They rushed out together, and there was no doubt in my mind that Van was going to buy himself a gun too.

I held Kyra tighter. "What's wrong?" I felt like I knew somehow, though I couldn't find exactly what it was. She didn't answer, but continued to cry. "Is it because your dad was in an accident?" She mumbled 'no'. "What is it, then?" I heard her breathing slow as she tried to get herself together to speak. She didn't lift her head from my chest, but mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.

"He did this for you mom. I'm not stupid. I know about why he picked you up that night. That's why I went downstairs- to wait for each of you to come home. I know everything that's been going on. You left your phone. I saw the missed calls. I know mom." She kept repeating. "I saw your bruises. I saw them and I know." She sounded so distant. Cheyenne looked over at her slowly, wiping a tear.

"What are you talking about?" She asked cautiously. I didn't want Kyra to answer, if somehow she did know.

Could she know? No. There's no way. She could have an idea, maybe. But she couldn't know all the details. She couldn't know exactly what's been going on. I had to talk to her before she answered Cheyenne. I didn't want to know what her answer was.

"Kyra, honey, I'm not sure what you're saying. But I just want you to know that I'm okay now. Okay?" I held her close. "I'm okay." I whispered.

"No you're not." She said bravely. It was silent as Cheyenne looked from her to me. "And you won't be until you let dad back in. We all know he knows he made a mistake. Now he wants to make it up to you. You've seen what he'll go through for you, mom. And you still won't take him back." She pulled away and stood, looking me dead in the eyes. I was speechless. "You need someone to protect you from whatever or whoever is hurting you. You need him. He needs you. Is this not proof enough?" She said, her voice rising, as she gestured to Brock on the hospital bed. "Mom, you've got to open your eyes and stop living in the past. I'm done seeing each of you in pain! I'm sick of it! I know the only way it'll all end is if you have each other. You both know it, too. Please, mom… Just give him another chance." Cheyenne and Barbra Jean gasped, and then turned to look at me. My eyes fell to the floor, and then over to Brock. I bit my lip, not knowing what to say or how to feel. I knew she was right. So what was stopping me? Right as I was about to speak, the nurse from earlier walked in.

"Hey guys! I'm sorry about this, but visiting hours are over." She said, being dramatically sad. "But you can come back first thing tomorrow!" I looked to Kyra, who was staring at me intensely. I looked over to Cheyenne and Barbra Jean who were doing the same. I looked over to Brock, who looked so vulnerable and alone. I knew that feeling. I also knew there was no way I was leaving him alone- Not when he was like this.

"Can't someone stay overnight?" I asked in a shaky voice.

"Well, usually that doesn't happen unless the patient is in critical condition. But I'm sure that would be fine! Only one person can stay, though." She said, using her sad-dramatic voice again.

"Okay, that's fine. I'll be staying overnight." Kyra's eyebrows rose a little. I turned to Cheyenne. "Can you watch the kids tonight? I'm not leaving him alone when he's like this. We can finish our conversation later." Her shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yes, I can." She stood up, and then stood by Kyra and looked down at me. Barbra Jean did the same, and I felt dominated by them. "Just know that what Kyra said is 100% true, mom. Every bit of it." She grabbed Kyra's arm and started leading her out of the room. The nurse held the door for them. She turned around one last time. "We _are_ finishing this conversation." She added sternly, taking me by surprise. Then, she looked down the hallway and sighed. "Great. Van and Jake are out there shooting each other. We've got to go. Bye mom." She let go of Kyra and rushed out the door. "Van! Jake!" I heard her yell.

Kyra looked at me one last time. I couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt because I didn't respond to what she had said. Either way, it hurt me. She turned and walked out, bringing a tear to my eye.

Barbra Jean was still looking at me. "Remember what I told you, Reba." She finally said. "It would be a shame if you threw away what you and Brock have over one small mistake." And with that, she walked out behind them. The nurse shut the door while giving me a huge, star struck grin.

I sat there in the silence of the empty room, processing what Kyra had said and trying to figure out just what I was feeling. After a while with no luck, I stood and sat by Brock once again. I couldn't tell if he was conscious or not.

"Brock?" I finally whispered. He moved slightly, but then remained still. "Did you hear any of that?" I asked quietly, knowing it was no use. He didn't respond in any way.

I rested my head in my hands and sighed loudly, feeling completely hopeless. That's when I heard his small, weak voice.

"I heard." He said. It sounded as if speaking for him was painful at the moment. He didn't open his eyes, or even move his hand. "We raised a smart girl, Reba."

I sighed. "I know we did."


	20. Chapter 20

***Long chapter, I know. I hope y'all like it! Leave feedback! :) Thanks, babes! ***

-Chapter 20-

Brock and I spent a good portion of the night talking. Most of it was from me since it was so difficult for him to. But I could tell he was trying his hardest to say all that was on his mind. At fist we talked about serious things- I confessed to lying about John knowing where I lived. He elaborated more on what John had said on the phone, which made me shiver with fear. Although I hated the condition Brock was in, I was thankful for what he had done. I called the kids and told them to stay at Brock's for the night without asking for an explanation. I couldn't risk John stopping by, considering that's what he told Brock he was going to do. They were confused, but didn't really argue considering all the sweets Brock keeps in his kitchen.

Soon, however, our conversation lightened, and we found ourselves talking about old times. Before we knew it we were shaking with laughter, which we hadn't done in years. We reminisced over the kid's childhoods, old friends, and even talked about the crazy parties we used to attend when we were younger. It was so relieving to see him smile.

I could tell Brock was slowly getting into more pain as the night went on, and I eventually told him he needed to get some rest. He nodded, and adjusted his head on the pillow. I pulled the covers up over his chest.

"Is this good?" I asked.

"Mhmm." He mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. I tucked the blanket around his sides and listened to his breathing get deeper as he drifted off to sleep. I sat on the side of the bed and brushed his hair back with my hand gently, trying not to wake him. I leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead before getting up.

I found a book in my purse, and sat next to Brock reading most of the night. I tried to give him some peace and quiet, and made sure not to make any loud noises. Every few minutes, I would rest my book in my lap and look over at him with the same intensity as before. For a while after he fell asleep, I continued to think about our long conversation. Not necessarily what we had said, just the fact that we were so caught up in stories and laughter that time got away from us. After the subject of John had left, we talked without tension and it came so naturally. Talking to Brock, I felt... Happy. Genuinely, truly happy.

Finally, my eyes started to grow heavy. Yawning, I looked at the clock, which showed it was already 12:30. I grabbed a blanket and pillow from the closet, and curled up on the small couch. It wasn't very comfortable, but the sound of Brock's gentle breathing in the background made me relax.

The next morning, they let Brock go earlier than expected. They gave him some medicine to take for dizziness, but other than that, and his cuts and bruises, he was fine. As we were leaving, I apologized to the nurse I had snapped at the night before. She forgave me quickly, and took a picture for Facebook.

We grabbed an early lunch for us and the kids and then headed towards Brock's house. I thought it would be best if I drove home. The car ride wasn't uncomfortable, but it was quiet. I wondered where to go from here with the whole John situation. When I finally spoke, I could tell by his response that he had been thinking about it too.

"I think I'm going to head home after lunch."

He looked at me like I was crazy. "What do you mean? You can't do that." He was still a little high from his medicine and his words slurred a bit. I could still understand what he was saying, though.

"Why not?"

"Because that man is still out there, Reba. He'll know where to find you there. And he will. I'm not going to sit by and let that happen."

"Well, what do I do then, Brock?" I asked, agitated. "I can't call the cops, because somehow he'll know. I don't know how, but he will. I'm surprised he doesn't know I told you yet! But when he does find out..."

"He won't. And even if he does, there's nothing you need to worry about. I'm going to keep you safe."

"What if you can't?" I asked quietly, focusing on the road.

"You know me. I told you I'd always keep you safe and I meant it." I recalled a long time ago after a show when a group of drunken male fans had attacked me because I didn't give them an autograph. No one was around me, and they all charged at once, dragging me to the ground and ripping at my clothes. I didn't even know Brock was in the same building as me at the time. But suddenly, out of no where and just when I was feeling out of hope, he popped up and managed to take out 6 full grown men. His face was red and his fists clinched. He looked like a monster. I remember staying on the ground propped up on my hands and staring at him, not knowing what to think. But as soon as he saw me he softened and gently picked me up. He kissed my bruises and helped me onto the bus, holding my hand the whole way. Remembering that made me believe him a little more.

I sighed. "I have to go home at some point."

"Then I'll be coming with you."

"Brock-"

"I'm not leaving you alone. Not while he's still out there looking for you." He looked at me seriously. I sighed.

"I'll be just fine. I'll just hire security again, and have them guard the gate 24/7. You know how seriously those body guards take their jobs. There's no way he'd get through."

Brock sighed and looked a little disappointed. "I still think I should stay with you the first few days." We were pulling up to his house. I didn't respond, but offered him a sincere smile before getting out. I rushed to his side of the car and helped steady him as he climbed out.

"I think I got it." He started walking, but his foot hit a crack in the side walk and he started swaying to the side. I rushed over and supported him with my body. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked in the back door.

We were greeted by the kids and Barbra Jean, who was more excited than anyone to see us, especially me. She squeezed me until I thought I was going to pop. Jake immediately started asking Brock questions about everything that had happened. Cheyenne stayed glued at his side with her arms wrapped around him. Kyra hugged Brock quickly, and then gave me a cold look. She returned to the counter and continued working on her homework. Barbra Jean came up and gave him a tight, 'Barbra-Jean-Style-Hug', which she does with everyone. But for some reason, a small feeling of anger rose in my stomach when I saw her do it. But as soon as I saw Brock's uncomfortable face, it faded away a bit. I knew I had no right to those feelings, anyways.

"I hate to break this up, but lunch is getting cold." I said, holding up a few sacks filled with burgers and fries.

"It's about time!" Van pushed past everyone and rushed to make his plate. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and calmly grabbed a paper plate before taking a burger from the bag.

Lunch was nice. We all sat down, as a family, and talked about a million different things at once. Besides the casual arguing that came along with our family, there was also laughter and happiness.

Cheyenne, Barbra Jean, and I were discussing a movie we had seen. "Yes, the main guy was cute!" I agreed with them. "But all he did was talk the whole movie. Plus he was an idiot. Thank goodness I've had years of experience with idiots who talk all the time, or I don't think I could have watched it!" I said, looking over at Brock. He smirked.

"Hey I saw that movie, too. The girl who played his sister was pretty. But gosh, she had such a twangy, nagging voice that I could hardly watch it! Thank goodness I've had experience with hearing that, too." He said, returning my glare. Van 'oooohhed', and Brock stuck out his tongue at me. Without thinking, I threw a french fry at him and hit his forehead. He chuckled, and threw it back, hitting me in the chest. Van grabbed a french fry next, and meant to aim for Jake, but accidently hit Barbra Jean. She grabbed it, plus two more, and threw them back twice as hard. Before I knew it, the whole table was throwing food.

"Hey, hey!" I yelled standing up. "Knock it off! Stop it!" Gosh, my voice was twangy and nagging. Everyone got quiet and stared at me, trying not to laugh. "Y'all are acting like a bunch of animals." I muttered under my breath as I sat back down. Everyone was still quiet. As I was picking up my burger, I noticed and sat it back down. "What?" I asked. Barbra Jean was covering her mouth and her face was red from holding back her laughter. Finally she blew, along with everyone else. Amidst the laughter, I couldn't stay mad, as hard as I tried. I found myself laughing too, with no clue what was going on. Finally, as Cheyenne was wiping a tear from her eye, she pulled out a little mirror from her purse and handed it to me. I looked at her questionably before looking in it. It was then I noticed the fry intertwined in my hair and dangling to the side of my face. I busted out laughing, causing everyone else to start up again, even louder than before.

After lunch, everyone went their separate ways. Jake and Van decided they were going to go throw the football, and Brock was still dizzy so he said he'd just watch. But before leaving, he pulled me aside into the other room.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" He asked.

"Brock, I told you I'll be fine."

"You're not going home alone." He said in a serious tone.

"I'm going to call the security agency and they'll send some people to guard the perimeter."

"What are you going to tell the kids?"

"Another crazy stalker." I replied casually.

Brock sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know how stubborn you are. But until I know that at least security is there, you're not leaving here."

"I'll call them now, then." I said with a smirk. I pulled out my phone and dialed my personal assistant, and then asked her to direct me to the number of my old security agency. Brock stood there as I worked out all of the details. Finally, after a several minutes on the phone, I hung up. "They'll send out three people to guard the perimeter at 5 tonight." I said.

"Only three?" He asked in shock.

"Brock! I'm telling you, these guys know what they're doing. Plus, the only way he can even get in is the gate, and one of the guards will be there. The other two are just incase he tries to get in somewhere else, which I doubt he will."

"You never know." He seemed nervous.

"Brock, I promise things will be fine."

"Let me see your phone."

Before I could ask why, he took it from my hands. "What are you doing?" I asked, trying to get it back. He was too tall for me, and I strained to reach him as he dialed back the last number and waited patiently.

"I'm asking for them to send six men instead. That way I'll be a little more comfortable."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine Brock." I threw my hands in the air and started walking back towards the kitchen. "Do what you need to do. Just set my phone on the couch when you're done with it."

I walked back into the kitchen to find Barbra Jean, Cheyenne, and Kyra sitting at the table staring at me, as if they had expected me to come in. There was an empty seat besides Barbra Jean. Knowing I had no choice, I walked over and sat down. I offered a small smile at them. Cheyenne smiled back. It was quiet for a moment before she spoke.

"So mom," She said, getting to the point, "You've had time to think about what we said."

"What I said." Kyra butted in. Cheyenne ignored her.

"What are you thinking?" She asked sympathetically as she leaned in and took my hands in hers, tilting her head to the side. I pulled my hands from hers slowly.

"I'm not sure." I responded, not knowing how to answer that.

"What are you going to do, mom? About you and dad?" Kyra asked bluntly.

"Well, I don't know what you mean-"

"Are you going to give him another chance?" Cheyenne butted in.

"I don't know-"

"Mom, you've had time to think about this!" Kyra said, almost offended.

"Well-"

"It's not like you don't know he cares about you!" Cheyenne said.

"Hey! Let her think. She'll talk when she's ready." I was actually proud of Barbra Jean for taking up for me. That is, before she pulled me tightly in a side hug and made me want to vomit.

"Listen girls... You're father and I have been through a lot. Especially here recently."

"And it's made each of you stronger! It's made your relationship stronger!" Kyra interrupted again.

"I know honey. It's just, sometimes after something like what happened between your father and I happens, it's hard to just go back to normal." The room got quiet. "I don't know how I feel about everything yet. You have to understand how much this is for me all of the sudden." I could tell Kyra was getting agitated. "It's just... I'm not ready to jump into anything. I just can't handle that now. I need to-" Without letting me finish, Kyra shot up from the table and marched out of the stairs and up to her room. I heard her door slam so hard I was sure it had broke. I looked down at my hands and sighed, trying to hold myself together. I felt Cheyenne's small, cold hands embrace mine like she had done before. I looked up to see her staring at me as if she understood my pain. Finally, she spoke softly.

"What's holding you back?"

Tears formed in my eyes. "I...I don't want to get hurt. I can't handle that ever again. It was almost too much the first time." I sighed hard after the words left my lips.

"That's the only thing?" Cheyenne asked as if it was nothing. I nodded, and wiped a tear that had silently escaped. I placed my hand back in Cheyenne's. "Can I tell you something, ma?" I nodded again. "There's a risk you could get hurt again with dad. That risk is true with anyone. With _anything._ Now you have two options. You can live your life in fear of that small chance of something bad happening and miss out on everything else, or you can take a chance, and be happy. Because sometimes, when it comes to a love as strong as you and dad have, it involves taking chances. It involves risks. And it involves having to put faith in someone who hurt you, which I know can be the hardest thing in the world. But that's just something you're going to have to do. You know why?" I looked at her, trying to hold in my emotions and not show how touched and amazed I was by her words. "Because what you and dad share, and how happy dad can make you, is worth it. I promise you it is, mom. Now you've just got to take a chance. Are you willing to do that?" She looked at me with big eyes.

Right as I was about to respond, a sudden feeling came through my veins. It felt like insane courage, mixed with some weird, crazy relief I had never felt before. I somehow felt as if every feeling I had been trying to understand was answered for me, and finally said out loud. I knew this bravery and this confidence wouldn't last long, so without answering Cheyenne and without saying another word, I stood up and walked out the door.

I marched out into the grass and across the lawn. I knew what I had to do, and I knew I had to do it while I could.

Jake had just caught the ball and was about to throw it to Van when I walked in between them.

"Hey, watch it Mrs.H!" Van yelled. I didn't acknowledge him, but marched on to where Brock was sitting on a lawn chair under a big Oak tree. He looked up when he heard me coming, and smiled, showing how happy he was to see me, even though we had talked not too long ago. His smile turned to a confused look when he saw how determined I appeared. He stood right as I was approaching him. I looked up at him right in the eyes with my hands on my hips.

"Brock?"

"Yes?" He choked out, looking somewhat scared.

"I'm about to talk a lot, and I don't want you to interrupt me. Because I know you just love to do that." He lifted his eye brows a little, and then agreed, with a slightly terrified yet amused look on his face. "Well, I should hate you. If you were anyone else, I probably would. I would probably never get over what you did to me, and just how badly you hurt me, and I would live my life striving to make yours a living hell." He looked down. "You know why? Because I was so in love with you, Brock." He looked back up slowly, his eyes showing pain and relief. "Everything about you. Every flaw, every bad habit- everything Brock. I loved every part of you And then one day you just changed! You did something I never imagined you would do. You became a different person. And from that point on, I've seen you as that awful person who took over one night of your life. But I've realized these last few weeks that that person isn't there anymore. I realize that you are who you were when I married you. That person who I was madly in love with. And I want everything we had back." His mouth dropped a little and I could tell he couldn't believe what I was saying. "I know it won't come easily, if it ever even comes back at all. For all we know, things may never be the same. We could end up just getting hurt even more than we already are. But you know what? I'm willing to take that chance. Because what we had... What we have...is perfect. It's all I could ever ask for, and it's what I've spent the last six years searching for. But you're the only place I know I'll ever find it. What we have is rare, Brock. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get it back. I'm done with judging you for a dumb mistake. And I'm so sorry if my words have hurt you these last few weeks. I've just tried so hard to keep you away so I wouldn't have to worry about falling for you again. But now, I'm done worrying. I'm taking a chance." I took a deep breath. "Brock, do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow night?"


	21. Chapter 21

-Chapter 21-

Brock stood in front of me looking like a child. It was silent a few seconds after I asked as he looked at me with big eyes and an open mouth.

"Ye- I mean, I would love- I-" He strained to find the right words to say.

"Brock yes or no?" I tried to look confident to hide how nervous I had become.

"Yes. I would love nothing more than that." He finally choked out, almost beaming. Without warning he jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into him.

"Alright, alright..." I said, laughing and trying to pull away. He looked down embarrassed, but still smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm sorry about that, I just got a little excited." I laughed at him. He usually didn't act like this. He seemed like a little boy. "Wait, you're not playing a joke on me, are you?" He asked suddenly.

"No, Brock! I just... Like I said. I think we would have a good time." I said smiling up at him.

"I think we would too. Where do you want to go? What should I wear? I'll pick you up. What time? Boy, we haven't done this in a while." He reminded me of Jake. I couldn't help but giggle at him again.

"The new Italian place downtown seems nice. Dress formal, but not too formal. Jeans and a nice shirt would be fine. Be at my house around 6:30ish." I knew that this time around, I was calling the shots.

"Okay! Sounds like a plan!" He said grinning. I hadn't seem him smile so big in a long time. It made me extremely happy, and I wanted him to stay like that forever.

"Alright, then! I'm going to go back in side." I said, stepping back and awkwardly gesturing towards the house.

"Okay!" He said as we laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. My rush was calming down and I was just realizing what I had done. I turned to walk back in the house, but Brock stopped me. "Hey Reba?" I turned around as he walked up to me. When he reached me, he had a serious yet grateful look on his face. "Thank you." He said.

"For what?"

"For giving me another chance. I know this may be nothing, and to you it probably seems just like something small. But I never thought I'd have a chance for anything even close like this to happen. So, thank you. So much." He smiled, looking almost embarrassed.

"Of course, Brock." I hugged him one last time before turning and going inside.

I marched back across the lawn, trying to seem confident while on the inside I was flipping out. _What did you just do, Reba? _I practically screamed inside of my head. I passed between Van and Jake, and was yelled at again by Van, but like the first time I didn't even notice. I continued walking, fighting the battle going on inside my head.

Did I make a good decision? Was it wrong? No, no. It wasn't. Cheyenne was completely right. Take a chance. It will be worth it. It will be worth it.

I repeated to myself. For a few minutes, I had managed to push the part of me keeping Brock away to the back of my mind. But I could feel it slowly creeping back up as I began to have doubts. _No. _I finally told myself as I was walking in the back door. _You made the right decision. It will be worth it. _I closed the door behind me and leaned my back against it sighing.

"Mom?" I looked over to find Cheyenne and Barbara Jean where I had left them, looking confused. "What just happened?"

I took a breath. "I asked your father on a date." I turned my back quickly and started walking out of the room. I mentally counted to three, and right on the mark I heard two high pitched squeals that nearly broke my ear drums. Cheyenne and Barbara Jean came running after me.

"Mom wait!" I stopped and turned around.

"Yes?"

"So you just asked him on a date? Just like that?"

"Yes."

Cheyenne looked shocked. "But... How... For when?"

"Tomorrow night at 6:30." I turned and began walking again, only to be stopped by Barbara Jean.

"Wait Reba! So, this means y'all are going to start again?" She asked jumping up and down.

"No, Barbara Jean. It could in the future, but as of now all this means is that we're going on a simple, casual date. Nothing more to it." I tried to walk away again, but wasn't surprised when Cheyenne pulled me back.

"Where are y'all going? What are you going to wear? Oh mom, this is great! You two are going to be so happy, I just know it!" She hugged me before I could even answer her questions.

"I'll discuss details later," I finally managed. "I'm going to go talk to Kyra, though. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay." Cheyenne and Barbara Jean, still sounding like teenage girls, hugged each other and continued jumping up and down as I went up the stairs to Kyra's room. I could hear her music playing from down the hall. When I reached her door, I had to knock three times before finally just opening the door. As soon as I did, she glanced up at me from her bed and turned off the stereo on her nightstand. She looked at me with an irritated face.

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you?"

"I guess."

I walked in and sat down next to her on her bed. I pulled my legs underneath me, getting comfortable. Kyra stared at me coldly, making it obvious she didn't want me there.

"Well, I have some news for you." I smiled, still not sure how she would take it.

"Okay."

"Your father and I are going on a date tomorrow." I said. She raised her eyebrows a bit and the cold look left her face. I smiled at her. "How do you feel about that?"

"Like, a real date?" She seemed shocked.

"Well yes, I guess so." I chuckled. "I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. We're just going out to eat. But it'll be fun." I smiled at her, and she slowly returned it. It had been so long since I'd seen her smile, and my heart filled with joy.

"I think that's awesome, mom. Did he ask you?"

"No, I asked him. Just now." I said laughing.

"Really?" She stared at me for a minute. "Is this some joke?" Why did everyone keep asking that?

"No! I really want to go out with him. I think we'll have fun." Kyra was looking down and playing with her comforter, trying to hide the grin on her face. "Do you think it was a good idea?"

She looked up, showing me her beautiful smile. "I think it was a great idea, mom."

"Thank you baby. I sure hope so." I hugged her, and she actually hugged me back. I pecked her on the cheek before getting up. Right as I was leaving, and as she was turning her music back on, I turned to see the smile still huge on her face.

.

...

.

"Alright mom. Strip."

"What?"

"You heard me. Strip." Cheyenne and Barbara Jean stood in front of me in my walk in closet. Cheyenne had a black dress draped across her arm, and Barbara Jean was making a huge pile with different pairs of heels.

"I'm not getting naked in front of y'all!" I yelled.

"We just spent an hour sorting through all of your clothes trying to find the perfect thing to wear. We even found shoes that will go with it! Now, we have to make sure everything fits. The last time you wore this was probably in the 80s." Cheyenne said, holding the black dress up. I rolled my eyes and began looking through my closet.

"Maybe even the 60s..." I heard Barbara Jean mumble behind me, followed by their giggling. I shot them an evil glare before returning to dig through my clothes.

"Mom what are you doing?"

"Finding something to wear. A black dress is too formal."

"Mom!" Cheyenne practically screamed. "It is not! You're just scared to dress up. The only time you ever dress up is award shows, and there's only a few of those a year! C'mon mom, this is a big occasion. You can't wear boots and jeans, you know."

"I wasn't planning to. But maybe something a little less dressy."

"Mom, please just try it on?"

I sighed. "Okay, but y'all have to leave. I'm not getting naked in front of you."

"Okay, fine!" Barbara Jean pouted as they walked out of the closet. I closed the door behind them and braced myself as I slowly took off my clothes in front of the full length mirror.

My body had aged some over the years, but not as bad as some of my friends had. My hips had gotten bigger, and my breasts a little larger. Other than that, my body was almost still the same as when I was younger. I could never tell if I had a good body or not, because I had always been so self conscious that I hated even thinking about it. And then, when Brock left, my confidence seemed to get ten times worse. Even staring at my body in the full length mirror, only wearing a bra and panties, made me uncomfortable. Finally, I slipped into the dress and looked at my reflection.

The straps were thin, but not too thin. The cut was low enough to show the beginning of my cleavage, but it wasn't too revealing. The dress was a little snug around my stomach, but it made my waist look small and emphasized my hips. It cut off a little above my knee, and thankfully I had shaved the night before. I picked out the simple black pair of heels from the stack Barbara Jean had made and slipped them on. I called Barbara Jean and Cheyenne in when I was ready.

The each gasped when they walked in. "You look beautiful!" Barbara Jean yelled, hugging me tightly.

"Thank you." I breathed out, trying to get her off of me. Cheyenne stood by the door with her hands over her mouth. "What?"

"Mom! You look... flawless. Plus, you have a body! Where the heck did that come from?" She asked, looking me up and down. I blushed.

"You're wearing this tonight. No doubt about it." Barbara Jean said. I wasn't sure if I wanted to or not. I turned and looked at my reflection in the mirror again, admiring the way the dress twirled when I turned around. I didn't feel gorgeous, but I actually felt almost pretty-something I haven't felt in years. Finally, I agreed.

"Okay." I said quietly with a smile. The squealing started again as Cheyenne pulled me into the bathroom and they started on my hair and makeup.

"If y'all keep screaming, the security guards are going to think I'm killing you." I said. We had arrived back at the house right as the security guards were showing up, and Cheyenne was disturbed by the idea of having them around. She shivered at my comment.

"Those guys scare me, mom." She said, putting a long strand of my red hair in a curler.

"Why? There here to keep us safe, honey."

"I know, but from what? Sure, stalkers get kind of crazy. But I'm sure we can handle it! I doubt whoever it is even knows where we live!"

I bit my lip and looked down, trying to shove away the anxiety forming in my stomach. Tonight was my night to have a good time- I wasn't going to worry about him.

"All done." Cheyenne finally said as she poofed my hair one last time. She leaned down and put her face next to mine. "You look gorgeous, ma."

I smiled weakly at my reflection, getting nervous. "Thank you baby." I said slowly standing up.

"Brock will be here any minute! It's 6:30 right now!" Right after Barbara Jean spoke, we heard the door bell ring. Brock on time? That was a first. Cheyenne and Barbara Jean screamed and ran down stairs to get the door, already more excited than I was.

As I was turning the corner I could hear Van's loud voice talking to Brock, as well as Cheyenne and Barbara Jean chipping in.

"Now remember, Mr. H. You two are grandparents. There are certain things that grandparents just don't do- especially on the first date. I expect you to keep your hands and tongue to yourself, are we clear?"

"Shut up Van, that's my parents you're talking about!" Cheyenne said. I walked around the corner and noticed them get quiet as I started down the stairs. I was so focused on not falling in my heels that I didn't look up until I was at the bottom. Brock was staring at me, his mouth open. When I noticed him, he tried to hide it, but couldn't.

"You look beautiful." He finally said.

"Oh, did you hear that?" Barbara Jean whispered to Cheyenne as they jumped up and down. "That's so sweet!" I felt myself blush as he continued to stare at me. He didn't stare at me like he had seen me every day of his life, and he didn't stare at me like he wanted my body. He stared at me as if I were truly beautiful, and for a second I believed it. Finally, I broke the silence we had brought on the room by our gazing at each other.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes ma'am. Oh, these are for you!" He said, picking up a bouquet of roses off of the couch and handing them to me. His hand was shaky and I could tell he was nervous.

"Oh gosh!" Cheyenne and Barbara Jean were fanning themselves.

"Thank you!" I took the roses and sniffed them, blushing.

"I'll take those." Van stepped in and grabbed them from me. "I'll put them in a vase, Mrs. H. And as for you," He pointed to Brock, trying to act stern. "Have her back by 8:30 and no later. Do you hear me?"

"Yes sir." Brock said rolling his eyes. I stepped forwards and dragged Brock out the door. We ignored the squeals, the advise, and the warnings of unprotected sex that our family was yelling to us. We quickly got in the car and drove off.

.

..

.

The restaurant was dimly lit and soothing. Our conversation was light during our whole meal, and after my second glass of wine we spent most of the time laughing. It was strange being on a date with him, but at the same time it didn't feel like a date. It felt just like two friends getting together and having a good time. It was nice to feel that way- no pressure, no fear. Just fun.

When we finally arrived home, Brock jumped out of the car and ran to my side to open my door for me. I thanked him, and almost lost my balance as I stood up in my heels. He grabbed my hand and held onto it as I regained my posture. When I was okay, he lightened his grip a little, as if asking if it was okay to continue to hold my hand. In response, I squeezed his hand. He smiled and tightened his grip again as we walked up the steps. He rubbed his thumb across mine the whole way, causing my stomach to flutter. When I finally got to the door, I turned to face him.

"I had a great time." I said, meaning it with all of my heart.

"I did too, Reba." I could tell he meant it to. "And thank you again. For everything."

I smiled and squeezed his hand, which I was still holding. "Of course." It was quiet for a second as I looked at him sincerely. "Brock?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful tonight, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just... Don't do anything stupid." I've thought about his drinking a lot since the accident. I couldn't bear the thought of coming close to losing him again.

"I have no reason to. Tonight was one of the best nights I've had in a long time." He said with a smile.

"What do you mean you have no reason to?" I asked, feeling sadness inside at his words.

"The only reason I'd drink before is because I was nearly positive I'd never have a chance at us again. But tonight I did. For a while, we were us again. And I loved it. Every second of it."

I looked at him deeply. "Are you happy?"

"Very." He said with a true, genuine smile. I couldn't help but smile back. I loved to see him happy.

"Well, I'm glad. Go home and get some rest, okay? Sweetdreams darlin'." I put my hands on his shoulders, and leaned up to kiss him briefly on the corner of his mouth. It lasted only a second, but I felt a million fireworks go off in my stomach at once. I could tell Brock felt the same way.

"Sweetdreams, Reba." He finally mumbled with a silly smile. "Call me if you need anything. I'll be here in a heart beat."

I grinned and looked at him one last time before walking inside and slowly shutting the door behind me. I leaned against it and couldn't believe how happy Brock had made me feel that night.

_Yes,_ I thought, _That was definitely a good decision._


	22. Chapter 22

-Chapter 22-

Something fluttered against my foot.

"Van, stop it!" A hushed whisper came into my thoughts, followed by a chuckle. I felt something brush my foot again. A tickling sensation ran through my leg as I yanked it up. I popped up quickly in bed to find Cheyenne sitting next to me and Van at the foot of the bed holding a feather.

"What are you doing?" I asked, half asleep and half agitated.

"Sorry, Mrs. H. We've been trying forever to get you up." Van responded. I stared at the long blue feather in his hand.

"Where the heck did you get that?"

He looked at it a second, as if wondering the same thing himself. "I'm not sure." He continued to stare at it and scratch his head and Cheyenne began talking to me.

"So mom, I just realized something…"

"That I need more sleep?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"No, silly. It's something important!"

I glanced at the clock. "Important enough to wake me up at 7:15 on a Saturday morning?" Cheyenne had came into my room after mine and Brock's date last night, and ended up keeping me up until midnight wondering about all of the details.

"Yes, mom. You know how they're having one of those dance nights tonight at that place we always went to growing up?" I would have had a hard time understanding her even if I _was_ fully awake.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"You know! That place on the outskirts of Nashville where you and dad used to take us and everyone would dance?"

I looked at her for a second before realizing what she was talking about. "The place in the middle of nowhere? With the big trees around it?"

"Yeah, that place!" She smiled big and stared at me. I cocked my head to the side.

"Well…"

"Yes?"

"What about it?"

"Oh yeah! We'll they're having another dance night tonight, and I was thinking that since it's been so long since we've been, we should all go together! Van and I could dance, Kyra might meet a cute boy there, and you could invite dad…" She tried to make the last part seem as casual as possible.

"Oh I don't know, Cheyenne. I haven't been to that place in years. I couldn't even tell how to get there anymore." I hadn't even thought about the place. For what I could remember, it was an old dance hall on the outskirts of town, practically in the middle of nowhere. When Brock and I first came to Nashville, we used to go all the time. When the kids were born we would take them, but only until around 8. That's when the rough crowd came in and things got wild. But before then, it was a pretty family oriented place. There was a lake in the back, and it always played good music. Brock of course never danced with me, but I knew he didn't like dancing so I never took it personal. Even though I would always see my friends dancing with their husbands and feel so left out. But that's all in the past.

"C'mon mom, it will be fun! It would do you good to get out some. Plus, we really need to go there again. That place was a tradition for us before…" She trailed off. "Please just go. You'd love it. Who knows, you may even get dad to dance with you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going just for that reason. I doubt he would anyways."

"I don't know, mom. I think at this point he'd do anything you asked him to."

"Oh yeah! It found it in the front yard yesterday." Cheyenne and I turned to Van, who finally figured out where the feather came from. "Jake and I think it's from a peacock." He held the feather close to his face and inspected it. Cheyenne and I turned back to each other, acting as if he wasn't there.

"I'm not sure, Cheyenne. What if he doesn't dance with me? Then I'll end up sitting there like an idiot like I always did."

"Please just try mom. Dad really has changed. You never know. Take chances, remember?"

I sighed. "Do you know for sure he's going?"

"Van and I talked him into this morning." She said with a grin.

"How long have y'all been up?"

"A while. Dad was worse than you were. He just mumbled with his head in the pillow the whole time. But when we told him you were going, he rolled over and looked at us like he didn't believe us. But we told him you were, so he said he would, too!"

"But you didn't even know I was going."

"Mom, stop arguing and just say you'll go!"

I thought for a moment. "Okay, fine. I'll go. But I'm not wearing a dress."

"Oh yes you are."

"Oh no I'm not."

.

…

.

My heels wobbled against the gravel and I had to hold the bottom of my dress to keep it from flying up.

"I can't believe you made me wear this." I mumbled to Cheyenne.

"Oh shush, Reba! You look perfect." Barbara Jean pushed between us.

"I can't believe you invited her." I mumbled again. Cheyenne smirked. I smoothed down my dress with my hands, feeling the soft satin material. It was almost the same as my black one, except it was red and showed a little more cleavage.

Old memories were resurfacing as we approached the familiar place. Music was blaring and people were laughing. I noticed Brock's car as we walked past it, and wondered how long it would be until his truck was repaired. Jake and Van ran past us quickly, almost knocking me over.

"I'll beat you to the door!" Jake yelled as Van tried his hardest to get there first.

I was laughing at them when my thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched southern accent.

"Reba! Reebbaa!" I turned around. "Wait up!" Dolly came rushing up to us, somehow running in high heels on gravel. I would wonder how she could do that, but then again she's Dolly Parton. Stuff like that comes natural to her.

"Hey!" I said, hugging her.

"What are you doing here? And dressed like _that?" _She said, looking me over and whistling.

"I know, I know. I was talked into it." I said, glaring over at Cheyenne who put on a proud face.

"Well it's about damn time. You look cuter than a button." She said, looping her arm around mine as we walked in.

As always, the room got a little quieter and we were greeted by stares when we walked in. Two country icons, one with boobs bigger than her body and one looking a little too uncomfortable, plus two ditsy blondes laughing at the way their dresses twirled seemed to draw a lot of attention.

"Well helloooo!" Dolly said, easing the tension and making everyone laugh. The room settled and everyone went back to normal as we walked in.

"We're going to go look for dad. He's probably wondering where you are." Cheyenne said as her and Barbara Jean ran off. Dolly looked at me questionably.

"Oh yeah," I chuckled nervously. "I guess we haven't talked in a while."

Just then, Barbara came walking up, dragging Lori Ann behind her.

"Stop tugging on me Barbara! I'm going home."

"No you're not, Lori Ann!"

"Yes I am! I haven't seen one cute man, therefore I have no need to be here. Reba feels the same way I do about these kind of events, don't you Re-" She stopped when she looked at me. "Since when did you get hot?" She asked looking at me. I rolled my eyes. "Really, Reba. Are you dressing up for someone special?" She asked slowly as she walked up next to me smirking. Barbara came up behind her, eager to know my answer. I looked over at Dolly, and her face showed that she knew what was going on. She didn't look very happy, either.

"Well," I started. "Last night I had a date. And he should be here right now." I said, looking around and trying to decide how to break it to them who it was.

"Oh Reba!" Barbara squealed. "Who is it? Can we meet him?"

"Well you already know him." I said, still not looking at them.

"Who is it, then? Is he cute? Have you two…You know…?" Lori Ann asked. Barbara hit her arm playfully. I turned to face them, and then looked to Dolly who was still staring at me almost in disbelief. I bit my lip and looked down. I could tell Lori Ann and Barbara noticed the awkward tension.

"Well… Who is it?" Barbara asked.

Right as I was about to answer, Barbara Jean screamed my name and came running up to us. Lori Ann rolled her eyes. I turned my back to them as Barbara Jean approached me. "Hey Reba, we found Brock! He's looking for you too!"

"Okay, tell him I'll be right there."

"Okay!" She ran off, as energetic as always.

I turned back slowly and looked at them. Dolly wore the same face, Barbara looked stunning, and Lori Ann looked like she was going to blow.

"No way." She said.

"You don't know the whole story."

"I don't need to know it, Reba! Are you seriously taking him back? After what he did?"

"Lori Ann, stop it. You don't know what all has happened these last few days."

"Yes, I do. He got in an accident because he was drinking and driving. I could have looked on TMZ and figured that out." I cringed. I hated when the media brought up Brock. It always made me feel guilty. "That doesn't mean you can just run back into his arms!" Barbara looked down sadly, but didn't say anything.

"Lori Ann, you just don't understand."

"I don't need to. This is pathetic. He hurt you! Do you remember what you went through every night while he was gone? Because I do, Reba! I remember you calling me in hysterics because you didn't know how you were going to make it! I remember finding anti-depressants in your purse because you just couldn't handle the pain he put you through! I won't stand by and let you take that man back, Reba."

Her words killed me. I knew she was right, but it had taken me this long to allow myself to forgive him and start over. I wasn't going back to where I started. "You really don't have a say in what happens between us." I said, looking her in the eyes. Barbara's eyes got big and she grabbed onto Dolly, who still hadn't moved. Lori Ann looked at me viciously.

"Okay, fine. Just know this. If you take him back, you lose me. For good." She looked at me one last time before turning sharply and walking away. The tears forming in my eyes must have been evident, because Barbara stepped forwards and hugged me tightly.

"Just do what makes you happy. Don't worry about her." She said before turning and chasing after Lori Ann. I looked to Dolly, who still hadn't spoken.

"Are you angry with me too?" She shook her head 'no' and stared at the ground. "I'm just sick of being sad all the time. And believe it or not, he makes me happy."

She looked up at me, her face unreadable. "Okay." Was all she said. I couldn't tell if I was relieved that she wasn't as mad as Lori Ann, or angry that she wouldn't tell me exactly how she felt_. Couldn't they get over themselves and let me be happy? Barbara could, why couldn't they?_

I waited for her to add something, but she never spoke. She just kept looking towards the ground. Finally, I broke the silence a little harsher than I had meant to. "Well I've got to go." I hated walking away from her, but I knew I had to stop thinking about others before myself. If only once, I was going to focus on me. I walked through the dancing crowd until I saw Cheyenne in the back. I walked up and saw her talking to Brock. All of my troubles disappeared when he looked at me and smiled.

"Hey." I said, walking up and trying to hide my concern over what just happened.

"Hey." Brock said. His smile faded a little when he saw my face. _"Are you okay?" _He mouthed. I nodded and forced a smile. Of course, I could tell by his face that he didn't buy it.

"Me and Van are going to go dance. Jake and Elizabeth are with Kyra." Cheyenne said, oblivious. "So, I guess you two can just… hang out." She said with a wink before walking off, dragging Van behind her. He used his fingers to make the 'I'm keeping my eyes on you' gesture to us. Once they were gone, Brock turned to me.

"What's going on?" He asked concerned.

"It's nothing."

"I know you."

"It's nothing I want to talk about right now."

"Okay, I understand." He said, lightly smiling. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yes please."

"Same as before?"

I nodded, in shock that Brock remembered. He came back from the bar off to the side with a Sunrise Margarita, which I managed to down in about 4 minutes. He laughed at me, and I laughed back, a little louder than expected, which made us laugh even harder. When we finally settled down, Brock stared at me for a second, nervously fidgeting.

"So, Reba…" He started, not looking at me directly. "I saw on the track list that they're playing a pretty appropriate song next," Butterflies formed in my stomach. "So I was just wondering if, for old time's sake, you would want to dance with me?" I giggled at how nervous he was as the current song was coming to an end.

"I'd love to, Brock." He sighed with relief and smiled at me. I offered my hand to him, and he took it in his as we started towards the dance floor. The beginning of 'Nobody in His Right Mind' by George Strait started playing, and I looked up at him.

"You were right, this is pretty damn appropriate." I said, and he smiled squeezing my hand.

When we found our spot on the dance floor, we positioned ourselves in front of each other. I could tell this was his first time dancing in a while by the look on his face as he tried to figure out where he should put his hands. I smiled and took his hands, placing them on my waist. I put my hands on his shoulders as the words of the song started playing.

_"__I burn with desire each time my heart fans the fire to that old flame that burns inside of me. She cried when I left her, now I cry to forget her. Oh, how foolish I was to ever want to leave. 'Cause nobody in his right mind would've left her. I had to be crazy to say goodbye. Nobody in his right mind would have left her. Even my heart was smart enough to stay behind."_

I looked into Brock's eyes as the song went on, and felt as if he were saying it directly to me. His hands rested gently on my hips, reminding me that love didn't have to be rough and mean.

Midway through the song, Brock's eyes drifted off to the side and the dreamy expression he wore fell. I followed his gaze to find Cheyenne, Van, and Barbara Jean staring at us. Barbara Jean and Cheyenne were jumping up and down, and Van was sternly staring at Brock. Beside them, some other people were staring. Barbara and Lori Ann must have left, because I didn't see them. I couldn't find Dolly either, which made my heart hurt. I looked on the other side of the unfamiliar crowd and saw some of Brock's friends who were hooting and hollering, obviously drunk. One was smacking the air and mouthing out 'Smack her butt'. I turned to Brock, smiling.

"Listen to him and you lose an arm."

"I wasn't planning on it." He chuckled, turning his attention back to me.

We danced through a few more love songs, and with each one I felt myself fall harder and harder. He never tried to 'make a move' with his hands, which I had expected him to. He just kept them where I had put them and stared at me in such a loving way that it made my knees go weak. Finally, when 'Me and You' started playing, I allowed myself to lean into his chest. He moved his hands a little above the small of my back and held me close to him as he rested his chin by my forehead. Everything about the moment seemed so real, and for once in a long time, I felt at home. This was how it was supposed to be. I could hear Cheyenne and Barbara Jean, who sounded a little tipsy at this point, oohing and ahhing in the back ground, along with Brock's friends yelling, "Get you some!" and Van telling them to shut up. I closed my eyes and drowned them all out as I kept my head against his chest and listened to his heart beat. He sang the last few lyrics to the song quietly in my ear, bringing a tear to my eye. He kissed my forehead gently when it was over, and then a loud, obnoxious song started playing to ruin the moment, signaling that the place was about to get wild. I painfully pulled away from him and we laughed as we looked into each others eyes again.

I turned to find the crowd still watching us, making me uncomfortable. I knew there was no way we could get away from our family and his obnoxious friends.

The change in music had gotten everyone excited, and soon I saw a conga line being formed and coming our way.

"Hey Brock…" I said under my breath, still watching the line of dancing people.

"Yes?"

"When this line passes us, we run." They were getting closer. I saw Cheyenne and Barbara Jean start walking our way.

"What?"

"Just follow my lead." I made eye contact with Cheyenne right as the line started to pass us. When we were covered, I grabbed Brock's hand and yanked him behind me. We ran through the dance floor, squeezing between people and even coming between some dancing couples. We were laughing so hard it was difficult to see where we were going.

"Mom!" I heard Cheyenne yell behind me, and I picked up the pace, pulling Brock even harder. Finally, we came outside. The cool air felt good against my legs and I felt the bottom of my dress twirl. I turned to Brock, who's frantic face made me laugh even harder.

"Where do we go?" I asked through my laughter. Before he could respond, we heard Barbara Jean yelling our names. Without thinking we took off towards the cluster of trees to the side. Somehow, I managed to run through the forest without tripping in my heels. I heard Brock right behind me and yelling at me to go left and then right, while still laughing.

Finally, we came to an opening in the trees. The ground was flat and even, and you could see the moon on the lake through the trees. I stopped and turned to face him, panting and out of breath.

"I haven't ran that much in years." I said, feeling my age catch up to me.

"Me either." He chuckled, holding his sides. My feet were killing me, so I took off my heels and was relieved to feel the soft grass underneath my feet. I sighed contently as I made little circles with my foot in the grass. I looked up to find Brock staring at me and smiling.

"What?"

"You look beautiful." I blushed and looked down.

"Thank you. You look pretty nice yourself." I added, looking up and smiling at him.

"Thank you."

"I really appreciate you dancing with me, Brock. I know you probably didn't want to, but it meant a lot."

"I did want to." He said with a smile.

"Really?"

"Yes. The whole time I couldn't help but wonder why I never danced with you when I had the opportunity." He said shamefully.

"I wondered that too." He looked down. I knew it hurt him to think of things like that. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. "But you said you're going to make up for it all, right?" I said with a smile. He smiled back, and put his hands back on my waist.

"Right." Honky Tonk Badonkadonk started playing. "Are you sure you want to dance to this?" He asked and we both laughed.

"Yes. As long as I'm dancing with you, I don't care." I was embarrassed by how cheesy I was being, but stared deeply into his eyes anyways.

A gust of wind came, pushing my hair into my face. Right as I was going to move it, I felt his hand already there. He chuckled and tucked it behind my ear. He left his hand there and traced his thumb along my cheek bone, still staring into my eyes. He leaned his head in slowly, and I anticipated his lips with every part of me. Right as his face was close enough to mine for me to feel his breath, he looked down quickly and pulled away.

"Why did you do that?" I asked in a hurt voice.

"What do you mean?" He didn't look at me.

"I just… I guess I thought you were going to kiss me. But you pulled away." He was quiet for a second.

"I'm sorry." He said, finally looking at me. "It's just; I want you so bad, Reba." I don't know how he meant that, but hearing him say it sent chills through my body. "But at the same time, I can't lose you again. After what you went through, I want to take things slow. I don't want you to feel rushed into doing anything you don't want to do. So, I don't want to make any moves unless I know for sure that you're ready."

"Thank you." I said with a smile. Then, I reached my hand up and stroked the side of his face. He smiled and leaned into my hand. "Hey Brock?"

"Yes?"

I slowly moved my hand to the back of his head, running my fingers through his hair. "I'm ready." I said in a quiet, southern hiss. I slowly pulled his head down towards mine and closed my eyes. I felt his hand cup my face before feeling his soft lips gently brush mine, as if making sure it was okay. I parted my lips slightly, and embraced him as our lips finally locked. He continued to keep his hand on my cheek, and I felt his other hand slowly slide up from my waist. When it slid across where my dress ended and I felt his warm hand against my bare back, fireworks exploded inside of me. His lips massaged mine as he brought his hand up my back, and ran his fingers through my hair. I did the same to him, and moaned gently against his mouth when our tongues met.

I don't know how long we kissed for, or what songs were playing as we did so. All I knew was that I never wanted it to end. When I finally forced myself to pull away, Brock was so lost in the kiss that he fell forward briefly. He caught himself before falling on me, and I couldn't help but laugh at his silly expression. He smiled down at me as I placed my hands on his chest and smiled back. He pushed my hair away from my face and behind my ear again. He ran his finger down my cheek, and then over my lips.

I rested my head against his chest as we started dancing like before. I could feel his warm breath on my forehead. "I love you." He said just quiet enough for me to hear. "So much." He added, making me smile.

"I love you too, Brock."

.

…

.

When we finally pulled ourselves apart and realized the time, we rushed back towards the building. I held his hand as he led me through the forest. It took way longer to get back than it did to get there.

Finally when we came out of the trees, I pulled on Brock's sleeve and he turned to face me.

"What are we going to say?" I asked.

"About what?"

"About where we've been."

"In the trees?" He responded, confused and still a little love-drunk.

"We can't say that, butthead! They'll think we were making out or something." He stared at me with a grin. "They can't think that, Brock."

"Okay, you come in from the front and say you were making a phone call outside, and I'll come from the back and say that I was talking to some friends by the water."

"Okay, sounds good." I said. We both began to go our separate ways, but then turned back towards each other. I ran to him and pulled him into a hug, which he returned, and then looked up and kissed him deeply. I pulled off and he sighed. "Okay, I'm ready now." I said smiling at him one last time before rushing to the front of the building.

I turned the corner, and I could hear loud music and people hollering from inside. I knew we needed to leave as soon as we could. I mentally slapped myself for going off with Brock when we should have been getting Elizabeth home.

I stared at all of the various trucks and cars as I was walking towards the entrance. There was a Mercedes parked next to an old beat up Ford, parked next to a Honda, parked next to a motorcycle. I chuckled at the variety of vehicles before stopping dead in my tracks and turning around. My breath caught in my throat and I felt my hands shake as I realized what I was looking at.

It wasn't just any motorcycle. It was the motorcycle that I rode on the night that changed my life forever. Then, a chilling thought crept over my body like a cold wind.

_He was here. _


	23. Chapter 23

***Hey everyone. It's been awhile, huh? ):

I just wanted to apologize for the wait. Between classes and laptop issues, it's been SO hard to post this. But here it is! Please leave a review, and don't forget to follow ThsBabeNmedReba on twitter! Thank y'all so much for the reads and nice comments. Hope you enjoy it! The next chapter will come sooner, I promise.***

-Chapter 23-

My vision was blurry. I fell against the wall to steady myself as I stared at the motorcycle in front of me.

_There's no way. There's no way._ I repeated to myself. My palms were sweating and it felt as if the night air was thick and suffocating me. The first thought that came to my mind was Brock. I had to get to him as soon as I could.

The fact that the first thing I thought of was Brock scared me. I could feel myself beginning to grow dependent on him, and I knew I couldn't let that happen. I can get by on my own. But for now, as much as I hated to admit it, I need him.

I steadied myself and took a deep breath before walking back inside. Smoke hit me from all angles when I first stepped in, and the loud music was almost overwhelming. I could see a million different faces in a million different directions, all laughing, smiling, and having a good time. It seemed strange to see such carefree people while in the state I was in. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I realized _he_ was somewhere hidden among the crowd. He could be lurking in the shadows, seeking a new victim to his evil game, or he could be standing right in front of me, ready to take back the victim he had lost.

With shaky knees I pushed through the throngs of people.

"Excuse me." I muttered quietly, practically to myself, as I gently pushed people out of my way. No one seemed to notice me.

My heart was beating faster, and I knew I wasn't safe. I wanted to find Brock. I _needed_ to. I tried to search the faces around me, but they all seemed distant and disoriented. Suddenly, a few feet in front of me, I saw a man with dark hair standing with a group of people. I gasped and put my hand over my mouth.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" A hand was on my shoulder. I turned quickly and saw John's face behind me. I screamed. He stepped back as his dark hair became blonde and his aged face became youthful. "I'm sorry, I was just asking." The young boy kept his wide-eyed gaze as he slowly backed up.

"I just- I thought- I'm so sorry." I tried to speak, but he had already walked away. I turned back to the man with dark hair, my heart racing. I didn't know where to go or what to do. My brain was telling me to run as fast as I could, but my legs couldn't seem to move. I was paralyzed. And then, with a quick movement, the man turned from the crowd of people and starting walking my way. It was only then that I realized his blue eyes and gentle smile. It wasn't John.

He must have noticed my stare, because he walked up to me. "You okay, sweetie?" He asked, stepping close to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed hard and jerked away.

"I'm fine." I tried to turn, but he returned his hand to my shoulder and brought me back to him. He squinted his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, obviously concerned.

"Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I-I'm fine. I need to go." I shook loose from him and made my way to the door which led to the restroom hallway.

The sudden silence overwhelmed be as I walked in and shut the door behind me. It was a long hallway with doors leading to the men's and women's rooms, as well as two 'employees only' rooms and an exit at the end. There was a bench against the wall, and it took all of my strength to keep myself steady as I walked to it and sat down. I propped my elbows on my knees and sunk my face into my hands as I tried to hold back my tears.

I heard a woman's high heels click as she came out of the restroom and the loud noise from outside briefly as she walked out the door. Then, I heard the door open again. The sound of boots walking a few steps in and then stopping came into my thoughts. I knew he was staring at me.

"Reba?" I heard his voice. My body tensed up and I could feel my arms shaking as I remained paralyzed, my head still in my hands. Slowly, his boots began to clunk, indicating that he was cautiously walking towards me. I didn't dare move as I felt him standing in front of me. I felt a tear escape as he squatted down to where he was on my level.

"Please..." I struggled to breathe. "Please just leave me alone."

"Why, Reba? What did I do darlin?" That wasn't John's voice. I was confused, but still refused to move. I felt two calloused yet gentle hands touch my forearms, and only then did I realize who it was. I looked up.

"Brock!" I yelled as my body sprung loose and I wrapped my arms around his neck. "God, I'm so glad to see you." I was still shaking and could feel paranoia shrouded around me, but the relief of seeing his face made me calm down some.

"Well, I'm glad to see you too." He said, pulling back and smiling up at me. "But what's going on?"

I got serious again as I realized the answer to his question. "Nothing. But I think it's time for us to go."

"The kids are already in the car. Some drunk men were hitting on Kyra, so I knew we had to go. I told them to go wait for you. We were all wondering where you were." He said, then brushed a hair from my face. "Now, please tell me what's going on."

"I told you, Brock. Nothing." I said, breaking the bond our eyes held and standing up. I knew if I stared at him any longer I'd pour my heart out to him. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. The minute he found out John was here he'd kill him. I couldn't risk that.

"Reba, please." He stood after me. I started walking towards the exit at the end of the hall. I heard him rush up to me.

"Did you see someone? Did someone do something to you? Please talk to me! You were a mess when I walked in." He reached me and turned me around, his hands on both of my shoulders. "Who did you think I was? Why did this person need to leave you alone?"

I knew better than to look him in the eyes, but instead stared at his boots. "Can we talk about this later?" I asked, sounding drained. "I really just need to get home. I need some rest." It was quiet for a second as Brock kept his hands firm around my shoulders. I continued to stare down until he let out a long sigh.

"Fine. But do you promise you'll talk to me when you're ready?" He asked.

"Yes." I said shyly. "Now I really need to go. You're leaving too, right?"

He squeezed my shoulders before letting go and accepting my change in the subject. "Yeah. I'm actually pretty tired. I can't party like I used to." He said with a laugh, although I knew he was still worried about me. "I don't remember this place being so rowdy. Do you?" I didn't respond-my mind was elsewhere. Instead, I reached over and grabbed his hand tightly, keeping a distant gaze fixed in front of me. I saw him look at me out of the corner of my eye, but continued to stare forward. He released his grip on my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him as we walked out the door and into the parking lot.

"I wish you'd talk to me." I didn't respond. He was quiet for several seconds as we continued walking across the gravel. I knew John's motorcycle was coming up, and all the anxiety that had faded away was slowly resurfacing. "I know you have every reason not to. Just know I'm here for you, and I love you. So much." He said, kissing the top of my head. "And one way or another, you're going to tell me what's going on. Whether you like it or not." He said playfully, pushing me a little but still keeping his arm around me. I didn't laugh or respond in any way. He sighed.

My breath caught as I saw the Mercedes, my legs tightened as I saw the beat up Ford, my hands shook as I saw the Honda, and as I prepared myself for what was coming next, I saw...Nothing. An empty parking place was right where I could have sworn I saw John's motorcycle. I stopped abruptly and pulled away from Brock's embrace, and then walked over to get a closer look.

"What are you looking at?" He asked, walking behind me.

"It was here. It was right here!" I practically yelled, pointing at the empty space. "Just now! It was here, Brock!"

He looked confused. "What was, Reba?"

I didn't respond, but instead ran my fingers through my hair and rested a hand on my hip. "I'm going insane." I said under my breath. At first I imagined his motorcycle, and then I imagined his face and his voice. Yes, insane is a good word to describe it.

"Reba." Brock looked into my eyes. He spoke slowly. "Please, talk to me."

"Well, it's nothing now. I guess that margarita just got to me." There had to be more to it, but I'd figure out later. I was just happy that he wasn't there. So happy, in fact, that instead of responding I pulled Brock into a tight hug. "I love you too."

"Huh?" He asked.

"You told me earlier you loved me." I looked up at him.

He smiled. "So you were listening?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I've just been kind of out of it today."

"I can tell." He said, his arms still firmly around me. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not now. I just want to get home." I said seriously.

He nodded in agreement. "I understand. Just promise you'll talk when you're ready. I want things to be different for us this time around. I always want you to let me know what's on your mind. And I promise I'll always listen." He said, making me smile. I reached up and pecked his lips softly.

"I promise. And thank you, Brock."

"Of course." Even after a little peck he still wore that silly I-just-got-kissed face. I thought it was absolutely adorable. I smiled as I stepped back and let my arms fall. "I should probably go. Be safe tonight, okay Brock?"

"I will." He said, and I believed him. I could tell he was changing back to his old self, and it filled me with joy. It was so relieving to not have to worry about him every night. As I was turning to walk away, he stopped me. "Reba?"

I turned. "Yes?"

"Thank you." He said. I cocked my head and looked at him curiously. "For tonight." He added. "I never knew how fun it would be to dance with you." He beamed like a little kid.

"We should do it more often."

"I'm up for it." His smile made my knees weak. I smiled one last time.

"Sweetdreams, Brock. Call me if you need anything." I said over my shoulder as I walked away.

"Same for you, Reba."

.

..

...

..

.

"Thanks for hurrying, Mrs. H. It's not like we're having a heat stroke or anything." Van said sarcastically as I climbed in the Tahoe.

"What are you talking about? It feels great outside!" I said.

"Maybe outside, but not crowded up in this stupid car. You have the keys in your purse, so we couldn't even turn on the AC! We're lucky the doors were unlocked." He yelled from the very back, where he was squashed against the window. Elizabeth's car seat took up the middle seat and Cheyenne was on the other side of her. Kyra and Jake sat in the two middle seats, each looking down at their phones.

"Stop whining Van. You know, you could have just opened a door." I said as I turned on the car and put the AC on high. Van scoffed in the background.

"So Reba, how was your night?" I rolled my eyes as I realized Barbara Jean was in the passenger seat next to me. I forgot we had given her a ride there.

"It was good. How was yours?" I asked, just because I had to. I turned out of the parking lot and saw Brock's car lights as he pulled out a little behind me.

"It was amazing! Me and Cheyenne watched you and Brock the whole time." My eyes widened and I bit my lip. "Well, at least until you two disappeared." She said in a suggestive tone.

"Brock was talking to some people by the lake and I had to make a phone call." I said matter-of-factly, following Brock's plan.

"Sure, mom." Cheyenne said from the back.

"Wait, what are y'all talking about? Where did you and Mr.H go?" Van asked, and we all giggled at his frustration. After a while with no one responding, he sighed and sunk down in his seat. "Grandparents these days, always finding a way to get alone and feel each other up and what not..." He ranted quietly to no one specific. Cheyenne slapped him, but couldn't help but giggle even more.

The rest of the ride home was quiet and almost peaceful, besides Barbara Jean's constant talking that we've all learned to just ignore. It wasn't until we were almost home when Cheyenne broke the silence. You could tell by how suddenly she spoke that she had just remembered something she was meaning to tell me.

"Oh mom! I almost forgot!" She said. "A man asked for you tonight."

"A man?"

"Yes. He came up to me right as we were getting in the car. I think he was just a fan who recognized my face or something. He was _really _cute, though. In a manly kind of way. He came up and asked me if I was your daughter, and when I said yes he asked where you were, but I said I didn't know."

"Oh. Well, was that it?" I responded, not really affected by what she was saying and focusing more on the road.

"Yes, sort of. As he was walking away, I asked where he was going. He just kind of left in the middle of our conversation. He told me he had plans he had to work on, and that he'd be seeing us soon. Maybe he has tickets to a concert or something?"

"Oh. That's neat. I can't wait to meet him." I said nonchalantly.

I heard Kyra, who I didn't even know was paying attention, chime in. "That's kind of mysterious."

"Yeah, he was a mysterious man. After he said that, he lit a cigarette and got on his motorcycle and left."

Barbara Jean screamed as I nearly ran off the road.


	24. Chapter 24

*** This is an extremely short chapter. Actually, it's just half of 24. The other half will be ready tomorrow, hopefully as well as the next chapter to W&L! :) I just wanted to give y'all a preview since I've been so awful about updating. Thanks for hanging with me! ***

Chapter 24

"Thanks for the ride, Reba. Are you sure you're okay?" Barbara Jean asked as she hopped out o the car.

"Yes, I'm fine." I responded with a pale face and shaking hands. "Please hurry inside, we need to get home." I couldn't handle the anxiety anymore. I needed to get the kids somewhere safe as soon as I could. For all I knew, John could have been waiting on his motorcycle in the trees, and following us as we speak.

"Okay, if you say so Reba. Thanks again. Love you!" Barbara Jean said, slamming the door and running inside. I pulled off quickly as Jake slid off his seatbelt and began crawling to sit in the now empty passenger seat. I didn't see him coming, and jumped when his arm brushed mine.

"What are you doing?" I yelled.

"Mom, I told you I wanted to sit up front when BJ left and you said it was okay!" He said, climbing up into the seat and buckling up.

"I don't care, don't unbuckle while the car is moving! Do you hear me?"

"Geez mom, calm down. You pulled off so quick he didn't even have a chance while it wasn't moving." Kyra said. I turned around quickly pointing a finger at her.

"You're not a part of this!"

"What's gotten into you?" She asked defensively. I sighed loudly and turned around, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.

"I'm just ready to get home." I finally said under my breath. The rest of the ride was silent.

.

..

...

..

.

As soon as we got inside, I made sure all of the doors and windows were locked. The kids looked at me like I was crazy, but I ignored them. After scanning the house twice, I finally slipped on a robe and sat down with a cup of warm tea at the kitchen table. Cheyenne was coming around the corner right as I was taking my last sip.

"Are you sure you're okay, ma?" She asked, coming to sit by me. I immediately put on a fake carefree face.

"Yes, I'm okay baby. Just a long night."

"So, did anything happen with you and dad?" So, that's why she came down here. I rolled my eyes.

"Nothing that I want to talk to you about." She gasped.

"Mom! What did y'all do?" Suddenly, she put her hands on her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. "Nevermind, I don't want to know!" I laughed at her.

"Nothing like that! We just danced and..." I trailed off, and she lifted an eyebrow. "Mommy and daddy stuff." I said with a smirk as I got up to put my cup in the sink. Cheyenne giggled.

"You guys are too cute." She said beaming. "So, things are going good?"

"Yeah, I really think so." I said smiling. "I'm having a lot more fun with him than I thought I would. Things are just...easy. You know? It's not pressuring or anything. We just have fun."

"I'm so glad, mom. You deserve that."

Just then, Jake came around the corner in his pajamas. "Mom, dad's on the phone!" He said, holding my cell in his hand.

"Why did you have my phone?"

"Me and Van were changing your ringtone." He said with a straight face. I looked at him suspiciously before answering. "Hello?"

Cheyenne tapped my shoulder, and told me she would be upstairs. I kissed her on the cheek and told her goodnight.

Brock and I ended up talking for what seemed like forever. I debated on whether or not to tell him about John tonight, but eventually decided not to. He didn't need to worry about that just yet.

After awhile, I started for my bedroom, trying to keep my voice down in the hall. I shut the door softly behind me, and then sunk into my bed, listening to him talk about possibly doing something tomorrow.

"Well, I picked what we did last time, so you can pick this time." I said, holding my hand above my face and inspecting my fingernails.

"You wouldn't like anything I'd want to do." I knew he was probably right. One of our problems was that we were never open to what each other wanted to do. I decided I was ready to change that.

"I'm sure I would. What do you have in mind?"

"Really Reba, it's fine. You come up with something." I knew there was just a handful of things that Brock really loved to do. I decided the most obvious.

"How about golfing?" The phone was quiet on the other end for a second. "Brock?"

"Are you serious?" He asked, disbelieving. I laughed.

"Yes! I'm going to be more open-minded this time around. I think it would be fun! Do you want to?"

"Remember what happened last time you went golfing with me?" Brock asked. Visions of flying golf clubs and speeding golf carts came to my head. I couldn't help but giggle. "Reba, that wasn't funny! You almost got me kicked out!" That made me laugh even harder. "Did you know that now that have rules when it comes to driving the carts?" He asked, finally laughing himself.

"Well, Brock, that's my favorite part. I'm sacrificing, so can you. The only way I'll go it is if I can drive it."

"Oh Lord..." Brock said.

"It's up to you."

After a second, he finally responded. "Okay, fine."

"Yay! What time do you want to go?"

"Does 4 sound good? That way it will be cooling off some."

"Sounds good to me!" We spent a few minutes going over what I should wear and other details before finally calling it a night.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow." I said, almost in a dreamy voice.

"Can't wait. Sweetdreams, Reba."

"Sweetdreams, darlin'." I said with a smile before hanging up.

I felt a little more secure after talking to Brock. He had a way of taking my mind off of things. By the time I finally curled up and starting drifting off to sleep, John hadn't even crossed my mind.


End file.
